


Fate

by jetaime



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetaime/pseuds/jetaime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.</p><p>And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm sort of, kind of, supremely new at this site. Here are a few things you should know before reading this hopefully awesome story:  
> 1\. My summaries are crap. Don't feel bad, fact is fact. That being said, please don't judge the quality of my story on the jargon up in the summary.  
> 2\. I took enough liberties with timelines and such that I probably should feel ashamed. I don't, but I should.  
> 3\. I'd really, really appreciate feedback. One cannot fix something she doesn't know is broken.  
> 4\. Here is a quick rundown on some of the characters:  
> -William Shepard: Colony Kid/Spacer, Paragon, Sentinel  
> -October 'Toby' 'Ten' Shepard: Colony Kid/Spacer, Paragon, Technician  
> -Honor Cousland: Female Noble, Paragon, Rogu
> 
> All in all, I'm super excited about writing this story and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Much Love,  
> Jetaime  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------

It was less than a second, maybe half a second, but it changed everything. A single moment that seemed to stretch on and on, until that tiny, insignificant measure of time became a lifetime. Call it fate, call it destiny; be it the Maker’s will or just dumb luck, the actions of Honor Cousland set off tiny explosions throughout the universe, ours and so many others. 

The moment her sword pierced the Archdemon, the moment chaos and pain exploded around the young woman, she began her true destiny. A fate far greater than the life she started in our world. A journey. 

An adventure.

It was another time, another world, another life where she belonged. It was in this dimension, his dimension, where she would fulfill the paths set before her long before she was even born. 

It is a story, a triumphant, terrible story that holds so much suffering even as it gives such promise of hope. Sacrifice shapes our tale, death defines it. But what is death but another step in our life? Be it our own or those we love, death has a way of shaping the world, twisting and turning it, giving us a purpose. Death can be cruel, unyielding. It can also be beautiful and peaceful. Death can be a gift. 

He is a hero. Savior and warrior; he is the first Human Spectre, The man who saved an entire universe from annihilation and pain. A man who may be called yet again into battle. Death began his tale, but shall death be the end of it?

And she, a young woman who clawed her way out of the darkness, a champion who fought for the very soul of world and won. She stood on the precipice of change and hurtled herself over the edge. Sacrificing herself over and over again, until naught was left but a shell, until her final moments screamed for her light, for her soul. 

Decisions and actions that shaped their paths, bringing them closer and closer together. Two worlds were about to meet. Lives that had no reason, no semblance of reason to intersect. 

But intersect they shall. And it all began with her death. 

\-----------Ferelden, Dragon Age 9:31-----------

She thought that death would be different. 

Her death was not kind; it was neither calm nor quiet. No, there was pain, such devastating pain. And the light, the blasted blinding light was enough to have her senses shrieking in horror.. Unable to move, unable to cry out, Honor flew as she fell. 

Aye, she thought death would be far, far different. No pain, no nauseating sounds and lights. Or rather she had hoped that there wouldn’t be any pain, maybe just a bit less light and confusion. 

She knew she had to die, knew she was to sacrifice herself to slay the Archdemon. Knew it, accepted it, and almost welcomed it. The moment she was told that Riordan had died, she and Alistair had looked at each other, and she had known. So she had sent him away, far away from the Archdemon to battle the darkspawn attacking the city. She would much rather it be her than Alistair. He had a future, a life ahead of him. He was to be king, in a place in desperate need for a man like him to rule. 

So, was it really too much to ask to at least be able to die peacefully? Maker, she felt as if every bone in her body was being crushed as she was thrown around, the sounds and blinding colors were almost enough to overwhelm the debilitating pain. Unable do anything but feel. It was not a good way to die, to leave her friends, her future behind. 

There was screaming, hissing, voices speaking all at once and one by one. Languages she didn’t understand; white noise, chanting. Lights swirled around her as she hurtled through chaos. It seemed as if she were swimming, drowning maybe, in the stars. 

Her battered body, damaged soul fell. Fell through the heavens, through time. She just kept falling. It seemed to take forever; time stretching on unbearably, but it took mere seconds. Seconds of falling, seconds to suffer. Moments to think back on her life, on mistakes she made and chances she never got. She never had a chance to find love, to have children. She never got a chance to see her friend take the crown, or to see he and his love marry. She never got to say goodbye, and that seemed to hurt more than her many wounds and injuries put together.. 

Images and memories swirled around her, confusing her with their strength and disorder. Memories of her parents, of arguing with Sten, being healed by Wynne. Swimming in a lake with her brother, drinking with Oghren, and the darkspawn arrows piercing her as she watched as an army is massacred. 

Her father bleeding, dying on the ground as her mother sobbed over him. Duncan dragging her away from her parents as screams and cries of battle followed her as they ran. 

Maker, she was tired of running, of fighting. Tired of the life she had foolishly dreamt of, tired of the adventures that had come at such a high cost. Growing up she had fought tooth and nail against her mother’s teachings. She didn’t want to be some housewife, she wanted to be a soldier, she wanted to fight and travel, and live gloriously. But once she got her wish, she had quickly realized that her dreams of honor and love had been nothing but a foolish dream, and she was tired of it, tired of the adventures that had come at such a high cost, tired of the life she had lived. 

She was getting bloody tired of falling too. Wherever she was falling, flying, to, she would very much like to get there soon. Is it odd to be bored of dying? She wondered, wildly, brokenly, if everyone who died went through the same madness as she. If she could laugh, she would have. 

It was the very next moment where her entire world went black. 

And then exploded in heat and light as she hit the ground. 

\-----------Valence----------

“Looks like a storms a comin’, Will.” 

“Thank you, Ten, for that brilliant observation.” Will Shepard muttered to his sister as he stared up into the darkening sky. The clouds were churning and swollen, slowly turning black, distant rumblings promising thunder, and the air cackled with electricity. 

Perfect, he thought to himself. We can’t even dig through some dirt without a shit storm following us. 

Normally he wouldn’t be too worried about a storm, he and his crew had survived a hell of a lot more than a puny thunderstorm, but this planet was known for its ‘pleasant’ climate, a climate that is a temperate one hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit with little to no wind to even begin to stir the hot air into any sort of semblance of ‘pleasant’. So the fact that the sky was looking more and more foreboding as the moments passed seemed significant enough to cause some alarm. 

The scans had shown nothing, absolutely jack when he had EDI analyzing and scanning, doing what she does best, to ensure that there were no nasty surprises in the horizon. She had given them a report of ‘all clear’. And EDI was never wrong, as in never ever. He was also fairly certain that the planet hasn’t seen a drop of rain in ten years. 

“I’m positively brimming with brilliant observations, brother dear.” 

“You’re positively brimming with something, Ten. But that’s just my opinion.”  
James chipped in, seemingly unconcerned with his sister’s famous temper and the situation brewing above them, and grinned widely when Ten gave him a helpful suggestion of what to do with his opinion. “I’m pretty sure that’s anatomically impossible. Plus, no way I’m that flexible.” 

“Do some yoga.” was the sickeningly sweet retort. Will snorted; both at his sister’s tone and the look on James’ face and moved a few feet away from the group. 

“Yoga.” James repeated, disgusted at the thought. “Hell to the no.” 

“What is yoga?” Garrus wanted to know.

“Stretching and shit. It’s for chicks and pussies.”

She didn’t even miss a beat before replying, “Hence why I believe it’d fit you perfectly, Lieutenant.” 

“Shit.” Vega muttered.

Garrus laughed at that, at Ten’s sarcasm and Vega’s inability to keep up with it. But his humor fled at the rumbling in the distance, a sense of dread taking its place. It was a familiar feeling. A feeling that he had learned to trust as it has saved his ass more often than not. Thank the Creators for indigestion. 

After listening to Ten and Vega's banter for a few more seconds, he walked over to Shepard, rolling his eyes as the humans continued to argue. He knew something was up when the commander, who would have usually shut his sister and the lieutenant up by now, stayed silent, his eyes narrowing as the results from his scan scrolled through.

The tension grew thick as Garrus walked up to the commander and began studying the darkening sky next to Will, his mandibles twitching every so often. There was something in the air. A hint of danger, enough to have his grip tightening on his rifle, his finger ghosting over the trigger. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, just that the last time he had gotten this feeling, they had been attacked by Cerberus agents. Shit.

“Shepard, I’m starting to get that bad feeling again.”

Resigned, Will brought up his omni tool and started scanning the air around them, not that his omni-tool was anywhere near as accurate or strong as anything EDI could do, but hopefully it’d catch something, anything, to give them some insight to --  
Beep.

“What the hell is going on?” He glared down at the glowing results, squinting and practically willing them to have the answers. Garrus leaned over to him, and Will held out his arm to him, allowing him to read over the results. 

“How can the scans bring up nothing with all that going on?” Garrus asked him. “Faulty tool?”

“That’s what she said.” James laughed, despite the ‘shut-the-hell-up’ looks he was getting from Garrus and the Commander. 

“To you, maybe.”

“Aw, Ten. Don’t go tellin’ everyone our secrets now.” 

“In your dreams, meatcake.”

“EDI, can you run the tests again? Get me something. Please. This crap is coming in fast, and I for one do not want to be stuck out here with my thumb up my ass.” Will cut in, shaking his head at the lieutenant, who just shrugged and grinned.

“She started it.” 

“Shepard, according to the scans, this looks like an electrical storm which, though extremely unusual, there has been records of a few storms throughout the planet’s existence. But,” The AI’s voice seemed hesitant, uncertain. Things he never thought EDI could ever be. “There are additional readings that I am unsure... I don’t know what they are.”

Damn it, this was supposed to be an easy run. Just land, collect some soil samples, and head back to the Normandy. Sure this planet was mostly rocks and dirt, and the air was stale and hot, and sure digging around for hours on end in the blistering sun wasn’t fun, but it should have been easy. Easy breezy. 

Nothing was frickin’ easy breezy any more. 

Uneasy and growing more and more concerned with each passing moment, Shepard weighed the need for the platinum and element zero over the chances of getting stuck in the freak storm. It was quiet in their universe, a bit too quiet, but nevertheless, they were taking the time to stockpile necessary supplies, which unfortunately included elements. That meant traveling planet to planet, scanning and surveying, the two things all soldiers and marines hated more than anything in the universe. 

“Commander, I believe that the chances of Lieutenant Commander Shepard making the rendezvous point before the storm hits are... poor.”

Joker cut in, his voice full of cheerful snark. “Basically, what she is saying, is that you’re kind of screwed, Commander.”

“What ‘she’ is saying is that you should seek shelter, Commander. And Lieutenant Commander, you should find somewhere to land the shuttle, and wait out the storm.” Concern soon turned to dread when the sky went even darker, as if it weren’t midday but sometime in the evening. Switching on the flashlight on his rifle, he heard Vega mutter ‘shit’ as he and Garrus did the same. 

“Still sounds like they’re kind of screwed to me.” 

“Thank you, Joker. Ten, park the Hammerhead. Now,” he growled when she began to argue, “Wait the storm out, like EDI said, but the moment that it’s done, haul ass to the rendezvous point. I want off this damn planet. Vega, Garrus, let’s get the hell out of here. I see a cave up there, we can probably get it in there before whatever is up there decides to— Shit!“

The ground began to shake as the light suddenly went out. Oppressive darkness quickly replaced the sun, rain and thunder following. Stumbling, he braced his feet apart and threw his arms out to keep balance. Shepard searched for a cave or an outcropping of rocks they could huddle behind, anything to get out of this awful, pounding rain. 

A lightning bolt struck between James and Shepard, both diving to the side to escape the resulting sparks from lightning meeting rock. 

“Shepard!” Garrus yelled over the booming thunder and shaking earth. Stumbling and cursing, the three men attempted to make their way to the cave when a huge explosion of light blasted them right off their feet. 

Landing a few feet away, the rain began to fall harder as Will quickly rolled to his feet, despite the pain radiating down his left side. “Vega! Garrus. Damnit, Joker! Ten! Report!” Slipping on a slick rock, he went down once again. “God damn it all to hell, someone better freaking REPORT!” 

James was muttering curses in Spanish a few feet away and waved when Shepard called out to him again. “James?”

“Present.” 

“I broke my damn scope.”Garrus yelled. “I spent half a year’s salary on it. Son of a bitch.“ 

Relieved that they were alright, he couldn’t help but grin at the disgruntled Turian. They were stranded in a violent storm, unable to move more than a few feet out of the line of fire due to the ground shaking as it is, and he was more concerned about his scope. 

God, he loved that turian. “Tell you what, if we get out of this alright, I’ll buy you a  
brand new one.”

“You’re such a pal, Shepard.” He managed as the ground began to shake even harder. “What the hell is this? What---“ The rest of his words were lost as the sounds of the thunder and shaking ground drowned out the all other noise. 

Unable to answer, though he was pretty sure they wouldn’t really be able to hear him, Shepard stumbled and crawled, stumble-crawled, and just basically tried to maneuver his way closer to the cave. 

He had never heard of a storm causing an earthquake, nor had he ever heard of a storm completely blacking out any light. Those coupled with the pounding rain and hail, the vicious lightning and booming thunder made one hell of a mystery. 

A mystery he’d love to get the hell out of. 

“Will---damn st---y—ok?!” Ten sounded pissed. A bit scared, but more pissed than anything, which meant she was alright. Thank God. He yelled into his mike, just in case she was able to receive transmission. “Ten, we’re battered, pissed, but OK. STAY WHERE YOU ARE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL KICK YOUR ASS.” 

Hoping, praying, that his stubborn sister actually listens to him this time, and if she didn’t, he would frickin’ kill her, he thought darkly to himself, kill her dead. He fell to his hands and knees, muttering curses, swearing like the marine he is; he crawled closer to James and Garrus. He let out a particularly vulgar one when a rock wedged itself between the plates of armor on his arm and dug into his elbow. “Goddamn rocks. Goddamn storm!” 

Garrus slipped, his rifle landing in the mud with a splat. Will was pretty sure the Turian gave a shocked gasp, but he couldn’t tell if it was his friend or the rain. “I hate the rain. I hate storms. I hate this damn planet!” Garrus’ voice was punctuated by rolling booms of thunder that shook the world around them. Will gripped the ground tighter, trying desperately not to slip farther away from his team. 

“Garrus, where is that eternal enthusiasm we’ve grown to know and love?” Will shouted. 

Joker attempted to contact them again. His voice mixing with the white static noise and thunder made it even harder to understand what the hell the guy was saying. 

“Does anyone speak gibberish?” Will called out to his friends. 

“Now he jokes... now you joke!? “ James yelled over the noise. “You have got to be shit—“

They were interrupted when the ground was hit with another strike of lightning. Scrabbling for purchase on the wet, rocky ground, he managed to roll, sliding away from the torched ground. 

And just like that, the sun came back out as the clouds seemed to practically melt in the air. Rain still fell, but it was more of a light shower than the drowning downpour it had been. Soaked, aching, confused Shepard stood up slowly, covering his sensitive eyes from the sun.

“I must tell a damn good joke.” He said seriously, and then grinned when Garrus and James groaned at him. 

Still shaking his head at his friend, Garrus began to inspect his rifle, the sight of the new scratches and dents almost physically hurt him, as did the mud that was covering the once pristine metal and he vowed, as soon as they got back to the Normandy, to polish her until she shined. 

“I’d say you’re a damn sight better at telling jokes than dancing, that’s for sure.” 

Will laughed, as he was well aware of the sight he made any time he attempted to dance. Ten had told him he looked like he was getting electrocuted and had constipation at the same time. 

His sister was such a charmer. Not that she could talk. Bless her uncoordinated heart; she was better at making the shuttle dance than herself. 

“Shepard.” He was still smiling as he followed James slack jaw stare, to his hand that was pointing to something behind him, turning around, he squinted as he saw a small, dark shape on the ground. “What is that....?”

“Jesus Christ.” He breathed as he realized what the dark blob on the ground was. 

A young woman, bloody and unconscious lay a few feet from them. Her back was to them. With thin, brown plates covered her back and silver buckles interrupted the dark material in places, and her legs encased in what looked like leggings and had boots up to her knees, it looked almost like... armor. She was wearing armor. 

Oh, yeah and there were two wicked looking knives strapped to her back and there was a bow, a huge, wooden bow laying on the ground next to her. “What the hell?” 

“She wasn’t there before, right?” Garrus asked, uneasy. His mandibles twitched as he placed his hand on the butt of his rifle when Will shook his head. “I don’t like this, Shepard.”

Pressing a finger to his lips, he signaled for him to do a quick perimeter check. Nodding, the turian patted his trusty rifle and took off. Vega, his own rifle already out and loaded mouthed that he would watch his six. 

Will gave him a ‘thumbs up’ and walked over to the unconscious woman, his own hand on his gun, ready for anything, eyes scanning for danger, for anything. Up close the woman was in even worse shape than he thought. Jesus, she was a mess. 

Lying on her left side, her head was pillowed on her arm; the other was curled protectively around her head. Her legs were long, covered in some sort of cloth and plates. Long, red, matted hair covered her face, dirt and blood covered the rest of her. Kneeling down, he reached a hand out to feel for a pulse. After a few tense seconds, he found it, faint and slow, but it was there. So she was alive, but barely. God, there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t bruised or cut. 

Still watching for movement, Vega moved closer and groaned sympathetically as he studied the crumpled form. “Holy shit, is she still alive?”

“Yeah, she’s alive.” He said. Barely, he thought. He could see the hilt of something sticking out of her side, a knife maybe? It was round, ivory, and looked an awful lot like a... “Holy bleeding Christ.” He breathed. 

“What in the... what the hell is that in her side? Is that a tooth, Shepard? A tooth!” 

“Vega, please tell me you have some medi-gels with you.” Relieved when the Lieutenant nodded, he caught the thrown pack of medi-gel, and looked back down at her to assess the damage. 

Wincing in sympathy at the multitude of injuries she possessed, at the thing in her side. The blood seeped sluggishly out of the wound, and deciding that that injury was the worst, he covered it with the soothing gel, he made sure not to touch the... whatever it was in her side. Pleased to see that the blood had already stopped flowing, he applied what little left he had to the numerous cuts on her arms and shoulders, the smell of medicine and sweat, of blood reached his nose as he brushed a hand over her face, pulling the curtain of hair away. 

Hand still buried in the thick tresses, he winced at the damage to the young woman’s face. One eye was completely swollen shut, there were scratches and bruises and bloody scrapes all over her face. Her lip was split, her chin covered in blood. 

“Holy, half-dead chick.” James whispered. “You're sure she is..?”

”Definition alive.” Will signaled for another medi-gel pack when the woman stirred. Eyes fluttered open and impossibly green eyes unfocused and filled with pain met his. It must have been the pain, he would realize later, the pain and the drowning fear he saw in her eyes that made his gut clench. She blinked slowly once, twice. Then her eyes cleared, and then instantly went hard.

Tense, he stood up slowly and stepped back from her. Though she was clearly exhausted and injured, she was an unknown, and Shepard knew enough about unknowns to be cautious. 

“Hello.” He said, holding out his hands to show he was unarmed. “My name is William. What is your name?” She managed to make it to a sitting position, her hands holding onto the knife, tooth? Grimacing, shaking, she looked at James, at the weapon pointed right at her, eyes going wide and then back at him. “What is your name?” He tried again.

Green eyes narrowed in confusion, she tilted her head as if studying him. “You speak my language?” Her voice was soft, lilting, and tight with pain. He had never heard an accent like hers before. “What are you?” She demanded suddenly as she grabbed her blades. Despite the pain that seemed to be radiating off of her, she rolled away and to her feet in one graceful move. He heard the slight ‘click’ of a safety being switched off. 

Shooting a look to James, Will put his hands up and stepped in front of him, “We aren’t going to hurt you. Please—“

“Commander freaking Shepard!! What the frack is going on down there? Your sister is freaking out and threatening all sorts of bodily harm to anyone who is listening to her if we can’t find you.” Joker’s voice cut through the tension, causing everyone to jump with its suddenness. 

“Damn it, Joker!” 

“Demon!” The woman launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground with surprising speed and strength. 

“Shit!” James choked out as he aimed. Nervous as hell, maybe just slightly impressed, and so totally unsure if he was supposed to be shooting her or not, he followed the woman with his rifle, ready to fire in a second, though he was pretty sure that Shepard could take a little thing like her, even if he was too nice to actually hurt her. 

“Or maybe not.” James amended to himself as a small fist slammed into Shepard’s face causing the man to begin cursing viciously. “Damn, lady. Nice right hook.”

Pain shot through his jaw as her fist connected that and surprise at the strength of the hit had his head whipping back, the second hit landed almost seconds after the first. Grudging respect warred with general pissed offness as he leapt towards her, his arms stretched out, reaching to grab her. 

His fingertips had barely touched her when she whirled around, ducking under his outstretched arm as she grabbed his other one, twisting and pushing at the same time, James could only watch in horrified amazement as that tiny female flipped Commander Shepard, Commander Freaking Shepard, over her back. 

“Shepard!” 

“Damn it!” He was dazed from the punch, and the wind had been knocked out of him when he had landed on his back, for the second time today. His breathless condition was exacerbated as she sat on his chest; she was small, but quick, agile, strong. She pinned his hands to the ground beneath her knees as she brought a knife to his throat. “Seriously? Freaking seriously?” He grounded out between clenched teeth. His eye and jaw throbbed where she hit him and he could feel; actually feel his temper brewing past the boiling point. He could easily get her off him if the sharp tip of the knife wasn’t digging into his throat, but since it was, and she was a shaking pile of crazy, he tried not to make any sudden movements. 

He really, really needs a vacation. 

“Who are you? What... what are you? A demon...” She paused, and then dug the knife in just a bit more. “Where am I?”

“My name is William Shepard. I am not a demon; I am a commander in the Alliance Navy. You’re on a planet called Valenca, in the --. “ 

“The Navy? Planet...” Her blade moved slightly away, but it was enough for him to flip over, pinning her beneath his weight. He hissed out a breath when her elbow caught him in the gut, and if he hadn’t of moved quick enough, the knee she brought up viciously would have ensure that he’d be singing soprano for a while. 

Damned if he wasn’t impressed. Pissed, but impressed, nonetheless. God, he was pissed. 

He glared down at the squirming woman. She glared right back. She was shaking, from fear or from exertion, though most likely from pain, the stubborn woman refused to give, refused to stop. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him, not unlike the ones she had strapped to her back. Damn it. 

Garrus and Wrex would laugh their asses off if they knew he let someone who was so obviously beat to hell overpower him. She was strong though, and fast. Scared and in pain. He gritted his teeth, trying not to just bonk her over the head to get her to stop. p>

“Let me go, you bastard.” Snapped back to reality as she struggled beneath him, he leaned on her harder when she bucked up, almost unseating him. 

She screamed hoarsely as his gun hit the knife stuck in her side. Instantly he rolled off her as she curled up on her good side and began to gag, tears running down her face. 

”God. God, I’m sorry.” Sick with guilt, Will pulled out his bottle of water and knelt beside her. “Here. It’s water. Just water.” He said when she eyed the bottle in his hand with uncertainty. She was still pale, so pale. Breathing hard through her nose, her hands were still clenched around the thing in her side. Will swallowed back another apology. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, not like that. Subdue her, arrest her even. But not hurt her. Shit. 

“Uh, Commander, do you need... help?” 

“Yes, toss me a---” Before he could finish, a huge blur of brown barking madness barreled around the outcropping of rocks in front of them, and sprinted towards him. He had a second to marvel at the size of the thing before he was hit again and went sprawling backwards with 300 pounds of angry, growling mass of demon spawn. Landing on his back for the third, count it, third damn time today wasn’t fun, slamming his head on the rocky ground and being pinned down by what seemed like a dog that was more like a bear, or a monster, than a dog bearing its teeth at him and snarling in his face, even less fun. “Mother of God, what in the hell is this?” 

The dog-bear’s bark was more of a roar as Will fought with both hands to keep the things face away from his. He managed to get his arm up before the animal’s huge jaws snapped down on his face. Crushing weight bit into his arm, causing him to yelp and he barely managed to stop himself from wrenching his arm away. 

Probably would have ripped his arm off, knowing his luck. 

Vega was dancing around the writhing pair, screaming. “Do you want me to shoot it?! Should I shoot it?! I’M GOING TO SHOOT IT!” 

“No!” Will and the woman yelled at the same time. 

“No,” she said again, “don’t hurt him. Cheese, good boy, good dog. Come here, come here Cheese. Friends, they’re... friends.” 

Cheese? Friends? Will thought wildly as the dog released him and ran over to the woman. “”What the... hell?” 

Stunned, Shepard and James watched, mouths open in shock, as the evil monster turned into a sympathetic, worried pet. Nudging the woman softly with his nose, he whined when she managed to bring a hand up to scratch his ears. 

A noise behind them had both men whirling around, Will still down on his knees, weapons up, ready for God knows what else this day, this stupid planet had in store for them.Relieved to see Garrus, Will lowered his gun and turned back to the strange pair in front of him. 

Garrus ran up, breathing heavily as he took in the scene before him. There was a small, bloody woman hanging on to a... animal? Monster? Alien species? She looked barely alive, a lot confused and even more defensive. “What did I miss?” He also noticed that Shepard was sporting a black eye and teeth marks on his armor-clad arm. 

“Complete mayhem.” Shepard said to his friend. “I need a goddamn drink.”

“Holy... Shit. Shepard, are you alright? That... that monster—it almost ate you!” He couldn’t keep the slight amusement out of his voice. “And that...chick almost kicked your ass.”

Equally amused, Garrus just gave his Commander a pointed look. “Having an off day, are we?” 

“Please, guys, try not to be so sympathetic next time.” Shepard groaned as he brought a hand to the back of his head. The skin was unbroken, but he could feel a knot already forming. Great, yet another knot for the Doc to hound him about. He probably had a mild concussion, too. His arm, thankfully, seemed to just be bruised. 

Aware of two pairs of unblinking eyes on him, he lowered his gun, “Uh, Hello.” 

“Will, I’m hauling ass to save your sorry one. You can thank me later. ETA 3 minutes.” Their comms turned on with the rush of static. Ten’s voice rang out, and Shepard saw the woman stiffen. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look, and moved slightly away as he responded to his irate sister.

“Ten, I want you here ASAP. There is a—uh, a situation.” He added lamely when green eyes met his. God, he really needed to get a grip. 

“More like a injured human and monster animal.” Garrus corrected, still watching the monster dog and woman with a mixture of shock and wariness. 

“Wow. All I got from the storm was rain and a bad case of whiplash. You guys sure know how to party.” 

“Just get here.” He told his sister as he rolled his eyes. To the woman he said, “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. None of us are. We just want to help, maybe get those wounds looked at. Can we try this again without the freaking out and trying to kill me stuff?” 

Unsteady, shaken, she managed to climb to her feet, with the help of the dog. “I’m sorry.” The woman whispered as she laid her hand on the dog. Then with a stronger voice she added, “I’m sorry I attacked you. I thought I was dead, I was supposed to die, and then I woke here... I...I’m...I’m very sorry, but I believe I am about to faint.” 

“Wha—“

Her face went deathly pale and she collapsed. Will leapt towards her and caught her just before she hit the ground. Instantly concerned, more frightened than he should be, he gently sank to the ground. Rearranging her so he could hold her more comfortably, he took the wet rag Garrus offered, and wiped the dirt and blood from her face. 

“Well, at least she’s a polite crazy woman.” James said, to no one in particular.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puh-lease forgive me for taking forever and a day to update. I've had a major case of writer's block. Le sigh. Again, all feedback is good, even if you tell me you hated it. I'm kind of hoping if I could get someone to review my chapters for me before I post them. Message me or comment or send up smoke signals or all three if you'd like to help me with that! 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Jetaime

”What a wonderful way to spend my Friday afternoon.” October ‘Call-Me-Ten’ Shepard said to no one in particular as she, in her shuttle, was tossed around like a wet rag in what has to be the biggest freaking storm she has ever seen in her life. “Lose a bet to Garrus. Have to remember I owe him a hundred credits. Ruined my favorite shirt. Dented my shuttle. Stuck in this stupid storm with my stupid brother stuck some stupid miles away.”

Talking to herself helped. She knew she probably sounded crazy. Hell, she knew she is probably crazy, but hearing herself, hearing something besides the godawful howling and bone rattling thunder was definitely helping her keep her cool.

Technically, she is always afraid.

Being the only survivor of two brutal massacres does that to a person. She’s been told by numerous people how ‘strong' she is, and how what she has gone through would ‘break' most people. That she is so brave to have survived, so lucky to be alive. God, she hated those people, hated those words. She doesn’t feel lucky, doesn’t feel glad to be alive when all those people, her friends, her family, had died screaming around her.

She feels helpless. She feels guilt. 

Nightmares and memories twisting and turning in her mind until she couldn’t remember what was real or not. Her waking hours aren’t that much better. Hiding an almost obsessive need for control and fear that every shadow is there to hurt her, jumping at every small noise, behind a mask of attitude and sarcasm doesn’t seem very brave to her. In fact, it pretty much screams the opposite: occasional paranoia and panic attacks, add in those pesky nightmares and she was a damn mess. 

And, oh, yeah. Let’s not forget her customary modus operandi of hiding from emotional entanglements. Pushing people away was easier than letting them in, letting them see the real her. And damn, that sounded so pathetically clichéd. But it was true. How could she expect someone to love her, to understand her if she hated herself more often than not? How could she expect someone to deal with all her faults, her paranioas 

That’s her, a big pile of emotional baggage on a one-way trip to crazy town.

It was in these moments though, where she had enough time on her hands to sink into this big pile of over-thinking and self-loathing, that she dreaded the most. Keeping herself busy, running herself into the ground day after day meant that she couldn’t think, didn’t have to remember. Running herself ragged through the day meant she could usually fall into a dreamless, if a bit restless sleep. 

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot else you could do while you held on for dear life as the raging storm, and the hell? Is that an earthquake? Of course there was an earthquake. She sighed, as the combination of the storm and quaking ground tossed the shuttle around. Gritting her teeth against the sound of metal scraping against rock, cursing as she was jerked rather viciously against her restraints, she tried hailing the Normandy and Will again. 

“Double damn with a shitty topping of hell on top.” She hissed when all she got back was some static feedback. “Of course there is a bizarre freak-storm going on. Of course Will is stuck out there, helpless, probably afraid, probably hurt, damn him. Of course, I’m absolutely worthless as a pilot right now and can’t even get my baby up two feet in the air before crash landing.Of. Freaking. Course.”

Just like Mindoir. Just like Akuze. Just like every other situation her family has found themselves in. Growing more and more panicky the longer she just sat there, but powerless to do anything but ride the storm out, she waited, shaking, counting to one hundred and back, then again in French, their grandmother’s native language. Anything to keep her mind of her fool of a brother, one of her best friends, and her favorite meatcake stuck outside in this. 

Goddamn it.

She literally could not do a damn thing to save them. She had already tried flying in this and had crashed the shuttle into a huge rock. True, the wind had chosen that exact moment to begin to reach hurricane levels, but she had crashed nonetheless. Her. October Shepard. Crashed.  
She has never done that before and it galled her to even think that a little storm could have bested her. Braving the weather, she had jumped out for a minute to assess the damage. A nice long scrape in the paint coupled with a huge dent was going to make life a bit harder for her. Thank God she was one of the best damn mechanics in the Alliance. Hopefully she could get that buffed out before someone saw it and called her out on it. Or before Will saw it and got mad and gave her another one of those lectures.  
If he was still alive, a nasty voice in her head said. 

“Oh, God.”  
She moaned as she felt the beginnings of a panic attack, the erratic breathing, the buzzing in her ear, the sudden dryness of her mouth. Fighting, with every ounce of control she possessed, she pushed the panic, the terror down.  
When the fear had been boxed up and pushed to the back of her mind, she realized that she was also pissed. Pissed is way better than scared, pissed is so much better than that drowning, suffocating fear. 

“That’s right October, just thinking of Vega and his arrogant smirk, think of the Illusive Man, think of stupid Jessie Collins in flight school who told that you looked fat in the flight suit. Bitch.” She growled at the memory. “Think of arguing with that damnably calm Kaidan Alenko. Though he wasn’t too calm that last time you talked to him. He was pretty much the complete opposite. He was definitely an asshole. Kind of right. But definitely an asshole.” Talking to yourself isn’t crazy. Neither is trying to piss yourself off. OK. Maybe that is just a little crazy. “Who gives a good goddamn. This is for the birds and I’m trying not to lose my mind here, so I’m talking to myself to keep myself from doing just that.”  
Just hearing her own voice, listening to the mundane and not so mundane, she amended when Kaidan’s bruised face flashed in her mind, calmed her enough to where her hands didn’t shake too much when she reached for the comm line. “Will? Can you hear me? Damn this storm to hell. Are you OK?” Good, her voice was calm, and she sounded appropriately pissy, with none of the choking fear evident in her words. 

Let’s just hope it got through to her brother. 

All she got was a rush of static. Muttering curses, enough to turn the air blue around her, she held on to the safety straps as the earth began to shake even more violently. It almost seemed as if she were in a little dinghy on a lake with a storm tossing her around like a rag doll. A particular apt analogy as the shuttle seemed to almost float as the earth rolled under her. If she was having this much trouble in the shuttle, she couldn’t even imagine what Will was going through. Son of a bitching bastard. What the double eff is going on?  
Looks like it’s time to try the Normandy again. There was no way she could handle trying to contact Will again and him not answer. That would suck. She needed to do something, try anything before she does something seriously stupid.  
Please, Joker, don’t let me down. “Joker, if you can hear this, people are going to get hurt if someone doesn’t freaking get in touch with the Commander and appraise me of what the hell is going on! Please and thank you.” Praying that she got through to someone, she leaned back in her chair and held on as the shuttle was tossed in the air again..  


Landing with a bone rattling thud, she cursed loudly at the screech of metal against rock. Son of a bitch, she had just gotten this shuttle spec’d out to her liking and now all of her modifications were getting turned into pencil shavings. “Dear raging freak storm, for the love of all that is holy, please calm your shit! Signed, everyone stuck out in your PMS rage-fest.” She yelled..br /> The flash of light was sudden enough, bright enough to startle a scream out of her. Embarrassed that she had screamed, even though no one had heard, she looked out the window to try and figure out where the hell that had come from, and realized that just like that; the storm was gone, completely and utterly gone. Well, not completely, she amended as she saw that it was still raining.  
Hmm. Do I wait for the go ahead from the brother Commander or do I take matters into my own hands and save their asses? Sighing as she started up the shuttle at the thought of the lecture she was going to get from Will, she opened the comm once more.  
“Will, I’m hauling ass to save your sorry one. You can thank me later. ETA 3 minutes.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
She made it in two minutes.  
She had practically broken the sound barrier flying over to pick his ass; beyond terrified, praying to the God she wasn’t too sure she believed in still that he was OK, that he wasn’t answering back because he was too busy being OK. Not only was he OK, but he had to frickin’ decide to pick up some passengers.  
Reaching their nav-point she lowered the shuttle, ensuring she landed with the huge dent on the opposite side of her brother, who did not need to see all that money he requisitioned to her get wasted because she had decided to go against his orders and fly in the storm. Hopefully she can get it buffed out before he notices..  
The shuttle door opened with a mechanical hiss. Ten turned in her seat; the belt that cut into her side went ignored as she waited for her brother to climb in. The air that poured in from the opened door was hot and humid, sticky, causing the cool air of the shuttle to quickly turn sweltering.

Her brother managed to give her a tight smile as he pulled himself into the shuttle. He looked exhausted, she thought guiltily, exhausted and miserable. He worked too damn hard and she knew for a fact that he slept almost as much as she did, which wasn’t enough. For either of us, she admitted to herself, her normal four hours hadn't gotten any better in the month that has passed since Mars.  
Since Kaidan almost died.  
Rubbing a hand over her face, she tried to quell the panic, the overwhelming need to weep at the thought of his unmoving form, the bruises and the screaming. God, she could still hear the rush of comm static before her brother had started yelling. Then had came Kaidan’s pained cries, her brother’s curses, and then the silence. Nothing has ever hurt her more than those few moments of silence, moments of regret for not talking to him, forgiving him, to get his forgiveness, to never tell him the truth, to tell him everything and anything he wanted to hear.

Shit. At least EDI had gotten a sexy, if slightly creepy, robot body out of it. She was still trying not to flinch every time she saw her. 

Pushing Kaidan to the back of her mind, she refocused on Will. He looked a little wild, frazzled, completely covered in mud and if the situation weren’t so serious, she would have laughed, until she saw the bruises on his face, the light in the shadow playing of the planes of his face, highlighting the multiple contusions.  
Black eye? Check. Busted lip? Check. Bruised jaw? Check. She narrowed his eyes at the bloody pulp pretending to be an unconscious woman was small, her brother’s big frame practically engulfing her. She could take her, for sure. 

Then she saw the cut on his neck. “What the hell happened to your throat?”  
“A misunderstanding happened.” He replied. Misunderstanding, my ass, Ten glared at him. That damn woman probably tried to slice him up. Damn him. He would explain it away, give excuses for this woman. She was scared, confused, hurt. She didn’t know what she was doing, and so on and so forth.  
“So she was so grateful that you rescued her that she decided to beat the crap out of you? Then slice you up a bit? She sounds like a real peach.”  
“I’m fine, Ten. So wipe that look off your face.”   
“How about instead you handcuff her before she can blacken your other eye.” Ten smiled brightly at her brother when he just looked at her. “Just a suggestion.” br /> He gave her a hard look. “Just get Joker on the line. I want to rendezvous in five minutes.” Of course she couldn’t be some Cereberus spy bent on mayhem and destruction. She could be indoctrinated, she could be a million different things, dangerous things, but all Will sees is a helpless woman who needs rescuing.  
Ten tried again, desperation mixing with growing irritation. He was too damn nice for his own good. A trait that could get him and everyone else killed. “She could be Cerberus. She could be with the Reapers. She could—“

“Be some innocent woman who needs our help.” He finished quietly, his tone brokering no arguments. She shook her head, disgust written all over her face. “Ten, release the stretcher. Then get us the hell out of here. Please.” He added when he saw the stubborn reluctance on her face. Muttering something she pressed the release and with a slight hiss, the stretched popped out of the wall and lowered down in front of him. 

He lowered the woman down gently; cradling her head in one hand as he arranged her arms and legs so that he could secure her properly. Her hair had fallen into her face, and he couldn’t help but brush the fiery strands away. She was in pain, afraid, and wounded. There was no way he could just leave her stranded, no matter how dangerous she is. Just please God, don’t let her be Cerberus. 

There were chirps and beeps as Ten went through her pre-flight check. Will sat down as she pulled a lever down, checking the thrusters. “Vega, get your ass in here!” She yelled, punching in the coordinates for the rendezvous point with the Normandy. “I’m serious. I’ll leave your ass here!”

Vega groaned as he climbed into the shuttle. “Damn, after a day like this, all I want is a hot bath and some cerveza, maybe a pretty woman or two, no, definitely a pretty woman or two. Hey, Commander, Tiny and I found this bag and I’m pretty sure it’s our Jane Doe’s. It’s heavy as shit, too.” He muttered as he set the bag down in front of Shepard. His armor creaked as he stretched, twisting this way and that and finally, thank you Jesus, popping his back with a nice, long, satisfying crack. 

October turned around, unable to stop herself from laughing at him, despite the temper that was raging through her.“Tiny, huh? Is that some sort of nickname for your...” 

Everything inside of her went blank as the biggest damn dog she has ever seen in her life climbed onto the shuttle. “Holy sweet mother of God.” She whispered. She liked dogs. Loved them. When they were at least ten times smaller than the gigantic monstrosity that just got onto her shuttle. “Why is Dogzilla on my shuttle?” 

The thing was huge. Freaking massive, well over 400 pounds of brown fur and pure muscle and his teeth, , his big, huge, massive, ‘oh God he’s going to eat me’ teeth, she leaned back, as far as her security belt would allow, which unfortunately, wasn’t that far.  
He sniffed at the men, dismissing them almost immediately. Then his eyes met hers. 

She froze. Couldn’t move if she wanted to actually, and she really, really wanted to. Too terrified to do anything but gape at the monster who was studying her as if she were a tasty morsel of food, she was dimly aware of her brother and friends moving around and settling in, completely oblivious to the pair. 

”Will. Why is there a dog the same size as the Normandy standing on my shuttle?”

“He’s with the woman. Don’t worry, he’s friendly. Sort of.” Will added, his hand ghosting over his forearm.The mutant monster barked once as if agreeing with Will, then again when she squeaked out a curse at the loud noise.

“I think...Shit. I think I have a rock stuck in my plates. Do you see it?” James asked Shepard as he twisted around to see the offending object. “I do! Hijo de puta! A little help, Commander? No? OK. I’ll just sit here and suffer. In silence. Aw, come on, Commander, don’t leave a guy hanging.” 

Ten tried to mask her fear. She was pretty sure these things can sense fear and use it for mass destruction. She made sure her movements were slow, non-threatning as she completed her check. The thing inched closer. “Jesus, Mary, and Saint Joseph.” 

Ignorant to his sister’s plight, Will reached over to help Vega. Garrus moved to the pack, poking it with the barrel of his rifle. “Should I search this, Shepard?” One good yank had the stone popping out and the Lieutenant groaning in appreciation. 

“Gracias, Commander.”

“No problem and no, Garrus, don’t open it.” Will decided. “Let’s wait till we get to the Normandy.” He gestured towards the woman in front of him. “She needs medical attention and we don’t know what the hell is in there. No more nasty surprises for today, roger that?”

“What do you think the first nasty surprise would be?” James wanted to know as he settled in a seat. “The storm?” He wondered. “Or maybe it was the earthquake.” 

The dog was next to her, his breath hot on her arm. He looked up at her, sniffing her arm as if it were a tasty morsel. The scream was caught in her throat, her mind completely and utterly focused on the angel of death she was currently having a staring contest with. Maybe if I don’t move he won’t see me. Like that dinosaur… the rex thing. The Tyrannosaurus Rex. T-Rex to his friends. Please, dear God, let him be like the T-Rex. 

But they eat meat, so that’s probably a really dumb thing to pray for. Good going, October. Pray for the demon dog to be a meat eater. Dumbass.

“Or,” Garrus added as he too sat down. “Maybe it was the human female that just happened to come out of nowhere and then kicked our illustrious Commander’s ass.”

“She tried to.” Shepard reminded his friend as he buckled the last strap across the sleeping form in front of him. Satisfied the woman wouldn’t move around once they took off. Turning to his friends, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared when they snickered. His glare lasted a few moments before he too laughed. “She may have gotten a few good licks in.” He admitted with a small grin. 

“Shit,” James laughed, “She knocked you down without breaking a sweat. Although,” he said thoughtfully, “the monster dog almost eating you was probably the worst of the nasty surprises. Speaking of, where is that guy?”

All three men turned to see the dog and their pilot in a stare off. The dog seemed fascinated with Ten, who just looked like she wanted to throw up. “Ten,” Will said, as he stood up slowly, “its okay. He’s harmless—“

"I don’t give a shit. Get him away from me. Now—“ She managed to get out before the dog bounded up to her and plopped his ass in the passenger seat next to her. Right. Next. To. Her. “Holy sweet mother of God.” 

Don’t freaking move a damn muscle quickly became her mantra as she met the eyes of the drooling beast sitting next to her. He barked, roared, roared and barked in her face, so loud that she jumped and pushed herself as far away from him as possible. 

Her safety harness cut into her chest and neck as she strained away, as she tried her damndest to become one with the wall. Vega may have laughed, but it might have been her imagination, she was way too terrified to care, though if that was Vega who just laughed, she would murder him, murder him dead. 

The monster barked again and lunged at her. 

“Cheese!” Will yelled as she alternated between shoving at Cheese and swearing up a blue streak. Will had rushed over to his sister the second the dog had moved. Wrapping his arms around his bulky middle he pulled, his muscles screaming as he tried to yank the dog off her. “Guys, a little help maybe?” He pulled again and panted, “Damn, you need to lose some weight there, pal.”

Her head had hit the bulkhead of the shuttle, hard enough for her to be seeing stars, as the thing landed in her lap, crushing the air out of her even as he began to licking her face in earnest. Licking and drooling, smothering her. “How you doing down there, Ten?” He asked her, sounding appropriately concerned despite the humor flashing in his eyes. 

God, she survived the attack on Mindoir and Akuze to die because her damn twin had to play the idiot in shining armor to a woman who hung out with dogzilla. “How t-the hell do you---ewww---think?” 

Vega maneuvered around the struggling pile of people and dog and managed to slip his arms above Shepard’s, adding his considerable strength to the fray. Garrus considered the situation for a moment before gripping the leather band around the beast’s neck.

Cheese was barking and growling, the whole thing just a game to him. The harder the men tried to pull him off, the more he dug in. The more October cursed at him, the more he licked her. “Gah,” she gasped as one of the dog’s luckier licks managed to get in her mouth. “Oh, my gah.” 

“On three.” Will yelled over the barking, over his sister’s yelling. “One, two, three --.”

On three, they yanked, hard, and finally, they managed to pull him off October. Stunned, face shiny with dog drool, she sat there, gasping for breath. Cheese struggled in their grips, fighting against their hold, and with a particularly strong jerk, ripped himself out of their grips. 

“If he jumps on me again, I’m throwing him out the airlock.” October warned as she braced herself for a second attack. But Cheese just jumped back up into the passenger seat and grinned at her, his tongue lolling out as he panted happily. “If you laugh, if any of you laugh...” She let their imagination run with that one. 

He was just sitting there, nice as you please, as if he hadn’t just tried to maul her. The whole thing had taken less than a minute, maybe a bit more, but it had seemed like an eternity to her. It was a hell she’d only wish on her worst enemy. “You do that again, you overgrown Chihuahua and I will shoot you.”

Will covered a laugh with a cough. James and Garrus were also holding back their laughter, though James looked like he was particularly struggling, and Will bet that he’d be the first to break. 

Cheeks puffed out, eyes bugging out and watering, James face was almost enough to send them all into a coughing fit. He broke and snickered. Giving Ten a horrified look, he waited a moment before he stuffed his fist in his mouth. 

“You guys taking the scenic route or something?” Joker asked everyone. 

“Joker. God, stop staring at me you freaking weirdo. No, not you Joker. Idiot.” Exasperated at his indignant squawk and the dog’s unrelenting stare, she gripped her controls tighter. “We’re en route. ETA 6 minutes.” If we don’t crash and burn because the dumb ass dog decides to begin its secondary attack on the innocent shuttle pilot, thus causing said crash and burn. 

James, now able to control himself, removed his fist from his mouth and grinned widely at Garrus and Shepard. “What a freaking day, eh?” They all swayed as the shuttle lifted off, October’s movements not as graceful, probably due to the fact that she was spending the same amount of time watching her co-pilot as she was flying. October gave the dog another wild look and was rewarded with a happy bark. 

No one noticed the light glinting off the metal a few hundred meters away, no one noticed the slight ding of a tracker hitting the side, and no one noticed the shiny white shuttle on the other side of the rock face as they began their ascent into the atmosphere. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stared down at the sleeping woman. She looked peaceful now that Doctor Chakwas had finished cleaning her and patching up her numerous wounds, healing the cuts and bruises and erasing the many scars the healed cuts had left on her. Scar free is the way to be, he thought dryly to himself. 

Doc had managed to wash most the dirt and blood that had caked in her hair, and it was drying in silky red curls around her face. She didn’t look as young as he initially thought. There were slight wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, she wasn’t old by any means, but she wasn’t young either. He’d put her at twenty five, maybe twenty six years old. 

God, he had so many questions for her. 

He wanted to shake her awake, ask her what her name is and where she came from and what the hell kind of animal her ‘Cheese’ is. He wanted a beer and a real pizza and this damned war to be over with. 

Universal peace for the win. 

The dog barked softly, almost as if he didn’t want to wake his sleeping mistress. His eyes were golden, shining with intelligence, he was also drooling again. “Gross, Cheese. Seriously, gross.” 

“You’re not going to like this, Commander.” Doctor Chakwas said as she came up beside him. He laughed and wondered if she realized that he had been in a perpetual state of ‘not going to like this’ for the past few hours. The concern and wariness he saw on her face answered that question for him. 

“Bad news?” 

“That seems to be the only kind I have lately.”

“Color me virtually unsurprised, doc.”

She laughed, and walked over to her desk. She knew she put the data pad somewhere. “It has been a rough day, hasn’t it? I’m about to make it worse, I’m afraid.” Searching over the slightly messy surface of her desk, she picked up and put back down a few data pads before she found the one she had been looking for. “There you are. Always in the last place you look, unfortunately. Now, as I was saying, the bad news is, my initial readings were... troublesome. EDI and I agreed to send the samples I took to Doctor Hansen, a good friend of mine, on the Citadel to get another opinion.” 

“What did you two find out?” Shepard asked, feeling that ball of tension grow heavy in his stomach. “Is she Cereberus? Please tell me she’s not another synthetic.”

The doctor gave him a pitying look. “Though that’d give you an excuse as to why you let a one hundred and fifteen pound woman best you in a fist fight.” 

He choked, “Are you... She was injured... There was no way I was going to... Shit. I’m going to kill Vega.” 

Cheese began to bark, causing him and the doctor to jump. The voice that came after had them both whirling around. 

Two very awake, very green eyes looked up at them. 

Shocked, at her sudden alertness, he could only stand there with his hands hanging useless at his side, mouth wide open, pathetic loser written all over his face. “Hello... again. I’m—“

“Commander Shepard.” She finished for him, her voice slow and unsure. “Will.”  
He and the doctor shared a look before he nodded at the woman. “That’s right. I’m Commander William Shepard of the Alliance Navy. Can you tell me your name?” 

She hesitated, clearly torn between suspicion and the prospect of trusting them. Cheese leapt on her bed. Shepard noticed that despite her calm voice and blank, almost bored face that her hands were trembling and clenched together so tightly that they were turning white. The dog nudged her hands, and she gave him a small smile as she unclenched her fists to pet him. 

Chakwas made a small noise of displeasure, sure the beast would undo all the hard work she had just put into healing the young woman. But he was careful, almost graceful as he jumped up, as if he knew where exactly the woman was hurt. Cheese settled on the bed, mindful of her injuries, his presence obviously comforting the woman. 

“My name is Honor Cousland."


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so infinitely sorry it took me so long to post. I have no excuses. I mean, I was super busy and all that jazz, and I had most of it written.... Forgive me? Anyways, this was TWENTY TWO pages long in Word, so I hope the long chapter makes up for the long wait. 
> 
> As always your feedback is welcome/appreciated, and if anyone would like to be my proof-reader thing, let me know!
> 
> Love to all! 
> 
> -jetaime

She was floating, swimming in her dreams. Flashes of falling stars and metal, kind eyes of a strange man, pain. 

And death. Her own, her family's. Death was her only friend as she fought through the depths of hell. She dreamed of him; watched as the life drained out of him, slowly, painfully, and held him as he died. Blood ran through her dreams like a silent river, carving a path through the fog of sleep, making her remember. 

Memories melded with her dreams, twisting and turning until she couldn't tell one from the other. 

She was back there, on the roof fighting the Archdemon. Wynne and Sten had been at her side, furiously defending her as the armies waged war around them. Darkspawn fell, elvhen and human blood began to mix as they fought to defend their land, their future. They were wounded, her side drenched in blood, and running low on health potions, but to run would mean defeat, the price of her failure the destruction of her world, so she gritted her teeth, and fought. Adrenaline made them vicious, fear made them strong. 

Her arrows were flying, Wynne's spells following short there after. Sten's blade sang through the air, slicing into darkspawn, his violet eyes flashing with violence. When the last of her arrows had pierced the Archdemon's flank, when her blades had been ripped from her hands, she ran. A sword glinted off the ground, still clenched in the hand of a soldier, blood still dripping from the dead man. She sent a prayer, a quick, frantic prayer for the soul of this man as she ripped his sword from his hands. And as the Archdemon reared in pain, roared in anger, she gave a battle cry of her own and lifted the weapon.

Her blade had found its mark, piercing deep into the demon's heart. An explosion of light and pain engulfed her, hurtling her through the air and into the void. Then, it was as if she were watching from across a gaping chasm as it died, as she died. She screamed as she witnessed her own death, stumbling forward, reaching out to stop herself from falling.

And then she was standing in her home, the home she had lived in and lost. Familiar and comforting, though unusually silent, she wandered through the Great Hall, smoothed a hand down the Cousland banner, its color bright and proud.  
Her home was how she remembered, before the massacre, before the pain. It was clean, quiet, whole. 

Home, she sighed, not really home, that home is gone, but this, she smiled contentedly as she walked through the dark hallways, this was just as good. If she were to dream, better to dream of home, the air tinged with heartache and loss than the dark, violent chaos her sleep was usually plagued with. 

Yes this, this was a small reprieve from the darkness of her memories. The stone wall was cool, smooth under her fingers. Walking through the dark hallways, the sounds, comforting and familiar followed her. She passed by servants, shocked and elated to see them alive. She strove to remember them as they were, before the siege on their home, blocking the images of the time she had seen them, their lifeless, broken bodies on the ground, screams and battle cries renting through the air. Smoke had choked her, the pain and betrayal staggering. 

 

"M'lady," A servant paused in her cleaning, curtsied at her mistress. Honor paused long enough to respond, dipping slowly into a graceful curtsy before continuing to the Great Hall. She did not know what pulled her there, why her feet seemed to move on their own accord, each step bringing her closer and closer to her unknown goal. 

The door to the hall was shut, not an unusual occurrence, she remembered, as her father and his guard tried fruitlessly to keep Cheese out of the Hall. It opened with a soft groan, creaking in its age, she could smell the fire that was always burning, no matter the season, the rustling of parchment, the clinking of armor as the guards shifting in their posts. And the comfort she found, the longing made her heart pound. 

The sight that greeted her made her heart stop. 

There, sitting right there as they had done so many times before were her parents. Alive? No, no she reeled back in shock, in helpless joy. Sitting in his favorite chair, a big, squishy chair that was so old and ratty her mother had threatened to throw it away almost every day. Her father had talked her out of it, the argument so old that it had become a playful joke between the two of them. 

Her mother, she shook her head, confused, conflicted. Her mother was sewing, the cloth was a shimmery white, almost ethereal in its glow, as her and her husband conversed. As if nothing were wrong, as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn't died. 

They looked happy, so happy. She wanted to believe, needed to believe that they were finally together again, but she could feel the dark tendrils of lies, the deception more cruel with the happy picture. She was in the Fade, she was dreaming. She was dreaming of them. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to wake up, to stop this torture, to end this hell. 

"No, darling, you are home." Her mother said as she stood up to face her daughter. 

"Oh, mother," Honor took a step back, "no, I'm..I'm not .Y-you're--" the words stuck in her throat as tears burned her eyes. Her father stood up to stand next to his wife. His arm slipped around her waist and drawing her closer, he smiled at his daughter. 

"We are dead." 

Honor wrapped her own arms around her stomach, physically ill at his gentle tone. "Maker, I know, I know and I'm so... sorry. But, I am still alive..."

Eleanor Cousland shook her head, a sweet, sad smile on her face. Honor trailed off, her words tangling in her throat as she disentangled herself from her husband. "No, my darling. I can't-- You did not survive that final battle. You did not live. My beautiful girl. We are together again." Her arms raised up to embrace her daughter.

With a choked sob, Honor began to run towards her, her own arms outstretched, frantic to touch them, to hold them, to see them again. Not a dream, not a dream. Her thoughts were disjointed, frantic. If they were dead, and they were here with her, then that means she too had died, that she wasn't dreaming as she thought. She had died on that rooftop, and finally, she may have some peace. 

There was a flash of light, so bright she stopped, momentarily blinded. 

 

Gone was her home, gone was the comfort; they were now in a field, a burning, hellish field. The flames licked her skin, the Maker, it was like she was swimming in the smoke. Coughing, her words tearing from her throat, she screamed for her family. "Mother! Father! What..." Her step forward was hindered, and looking down at herself she saw she wore ghostly dress of white, the same one her mother had been sewing. It caught around her legs, tripping her up as she tried to take a step. Grasping a handful of material in each fist, she raised the dress, hiking it above her ankles so she could move freely. 

Wind tore through the flames and in its wake, suffering. She fought through the chaos, struggled through the violent wind and stinging rain. The flames flickered and died in the torrential downpour. Her dress began to stick to her, the material becoming heavier as the rain soaked into it. And still, she ran to them. Trying to get to them, praying to get to them. And as she grew closer she could hear the whispers. Despite the thunder and screaming wind, she could hear the whispering. 

 

It is a lie. It is a lie. You are alive. It is a lie. They are dead and you are alive. 

"No. She told the whispers, "you're wrong." They had to be wrong. She wanted them to be here, wanted them with her, wanted to spend the rest of eternity with them in the Golden City . "So to the void with you." Sheer determination had her moving, each step she took sapped more and more of her energy, each movement seemed like her last. But she was getting closer to them. So close, she thought, not close enough. Desperate to hold them again she began to run. 

A flash of light, a scream of terror, and she opened her eyes to her father bleeding, dying in front of her as her mother begged for mercy. Arl Rendon Howe stood over her, blood dripping from the sword in his hands, and he raised it, his face twisting in hatred as the wind rushed over them, rippling the Arl's clothes, whipping her hair around her face. 

She could hear their screams. Their suffering. She began to run towards them, stumbled, fell and watched, helpless, as he brought the sword down, the deadly metal gleaming as it plunged into her mother's body. A shocked, pained gasp, and she watched as her mother's mouth opened and closed, her screams ripping through the storm.

 

"No!" She sobbed, her words falling silently through the air. Fingers digging into the earth beneath, she scrambled towards her fallen mother. Skin tore, nails broke, and still she moved, heedless of the rocks cutting into her, of the sharp edges of insanity that threatened to overcome her. She couldn't watch them die. Not again. "No! No, you bastard!" 

The storm raged on, growing in strength until she was on her belly, and as the sky swirled above her, the clouds dark and menacing, she wept and watched as her parents fought for breath, for life. She could see them, dark shapes on the ground, blood pooling around them, flowing down, down, mixing with the dirt as she crawled through it. No, no, she wept, no. Have to save them, have to help them. So much blood. Maker help me, so much blood. 

Another flash of light. 

"You're path is not an easy one, my child, it is one riddled with pain and suffering. Yet, with all the darkness threatening to over take you, there will be hope. You will find life. But it will come with a price. Destiny is rarely kind, fate fickle, but you have been given a gift. To love, to live. " Flemeth stepped over her parents corpses, eyes glittering with power. And as she walked, the wind began to quiet, the earth began to dry, her parents blood slowly seeping into the earth, until there was no trace but for the stains on her hands. "But is it a fate for only you? No. No. It will be the joining of two destinies, of his and your own, that can save you. It will be a fate that brings more death, and yet, a promise of hope." 

The old woman was not as she remembered. Gone was the frail, pallid woman and in her place was a beautiful, deadly witch. Her eyes glittered, not unlike the dragon she had transformed into, her body encased in a beautiful, form-fitting armor. Long, silky silver hair curled softly around her face. This was not Flemeth. It couldn't be. She was dead too. Everyone was dead. Honor had killed her. And no amount of magic could stop a blade to the heart.

Maker, she buried her face in her hands. A whisper of sound in her ear had her trembling, a light touch on her shoulder had her head raising. And as she met the golden gaze of Flemeth, she began to grieve.

"This is a dream. They aren't real. You aren't real. It's just a dream." Thoughts running wildly, slamming into each other as Flemeth smiled down at her. "Just a dream." She murmured over and over again, the edges of insanity creeping into her voice. "I'm alive. Alive and dreaming. Please, Maker. I don't want this, I don't want them to suffer. It's a dream..." 

Stopping just before the fallen Grey Warden, Flemeth regarded the woman, "A dream? Perhaps. You've been in the Fade before, Warden, you know the heavy fingers of fear and uncertainty, know the sting of a demon's fire and the hopelessness of memories. Is this really a dream?" 

Honor put her head in her hands, felt the slickness of her family's blood, knew her face was now streaked with red smears. Their blood practically burned on her skin. Holy Maker, please let them be at peace. Please don't let this be how they spend eternity. Dying over and over at the hands of that monster."Yes. It has to be. My parents--" 

 

The witch cut her off. "Are dead. At peace," she added softly as Honor's head shot up in fury, "I swear that to you Warden, your parents are at peace. It seems their fate is a lot kinder than your own. Kinder, easier. We know their--"

 

"How kind is a fate where you are slain, raped and murdered by a friend?" Shaken, grieving, she rose and faced the woman. Bitterness made her feel brittle, pain made her feel brave. "You can take that fate and hang it. I don't want it. Just let me die, let me be with my family."

"You would take the cowards way out?" The witch mocked. "The brave, Honor Cousland, last of the Grey Wardens, hero of Ferelden, you'd give that up for what? To be with your family? They died so you could live, and you would spit on their sacrifice because you are too weak, too weary to go on?"

Hate filled her. "Damn you, Flemeth, damn you to the Void. I don't give a Maker's damn. I'd rather die and be with my dead family then alive. I'm done suffering. I'm done with you." Sick with grief, exhausted, she turned away from the other woman, only to see Flemeth once again in front of her. "Must be quite handy being a witch." 

 

"I've found it to be so in times of importance."

 

"Then I am ever so honored, my Lady Witch," Honor gritted out while her fists clenched, "that you have deemed me worthy of such gifts."

Flemeth threw her head back as she laughed, "It's good to see that you have not lost that sharp wit, child. The stars have a tendency of stealing such gifts. You'll need it. You'll need him."

Suddenly tired, more tired than she has ever been in her life, or death, Honor just stared at the woman. "Who?"

"The man who saved you, the man in your dreams, of course."

Hazel eyes flashed through her shattered mind. "Well, he can hang it too." 

She tsked. "You're a hero, Grey Warden, a savior. You're fate--"

"To the Void with that!" She raged. "My fate? That word loses its meaning the more you throw it around, Flemeth. It becomes meaningless and cruel. I hate it." Snarling, pacing, she felt the low burn of fury. It was unfair, she never asked for this, never once complained about doing it once, and now, she is being asked to do it again? "My fate is to do what? Save this land from evil? Did that already, if you remember correctly. A fat lot of good it did me. I was supposed to die." She added in a whisper. 

"Ah, but you didn't, did you?" Flemmth smiled slyly. "What do you think that means?" 

Honor didn't answer, didn't know what she would say, she just stood there. The witch patted her arm, sympathetic now, "It means, Warden, that you are meant for greatness. You will save the lives of many. But most importantly, you will save the life of one." 

And then, with a soft whisper of light, Flemeth was gone. Leaving her there alone in the darkness of her dreams. Where she wept over her slain parents, for the second time in her life.

 

  
She awoke slowly, painfully, with images of her dreams still swirling inside her mind. 

Flemeth. Madness.

That couldn't have been real, it wasn't possible. She had slain the witch, killed her before she could once more weave the dark spell to possess her daughter's body. But there she had stood, powerful magic cackling around her, in front of her, still speaking in cryptic riddles, the old bat. 

But no matter how much she told herself that it had just been a dream, nightmare, she couldn't shake the feeling that it had been so much more. She could still feel the tendrils of the Fade around her, Flemeth's magic tinged the air. 

So, she had been there, in her dreams. It may not have been real, in the literal sense, but it had been deliberate. The witch had traveled through the Fade to speak with her, and the meaning was not lost on her. She had dreamed for a reason; the Archdemon, the man, her death. 

And her parents. The stab of grief stole her breath, the pain was like a long healed wound being ripped open once more. She struggled to remember that they died over a year ago, that they are no longer suffering. That they were together in the Golden City . They were safe and happy, forever. That they had been avenged. 

Maker, how she longed to be with them again. To hold them and tell them she loved them and to beg for their forgiveness for not saving them. After fighting to live for so long, it seemed so easy to just give up. It would be too easy to just give up. To die. 

Her eyes flew open.

The thought, the longing that came with that thought, coupled with the echo of Flemmeth's mocking words pulled her fully out of her reverie. The void with that. She is no coward. Not anymore. Never again. She would live, she would fight, and she will die with honor. She owed her parents that. 

But just as quick as she had opened her eyes, she slammed them back shut. 

The lights. Dancing around her, blinking and mocking. She was not dreaming, she was not alive. She was in that hell. The endless pain and suffering. Panic began to take over, terror turned her blood cold. She had been wrong. So, so wrong. The dream had been just that, a dream. She was still falling; falling and falling. Suffering. Was this her punishment? Was this her fate? To fall, the never ending rush of wind and pain her only companion, for eternity.

It had been a lie. A horrible, agonizing lie. The man, the pain, her parents. Flemeth hadn't really snuck in to her dreams, she hadn't really survived slaying the Archdemon. She had succumbed to the taint, to the joining of the Archdemon's soul and her own. And now her future held nothing but suffering. 

 

Stifling a sob, she clenched her fists against the tears that threatened to fall. And felt softness underneath her fingers. 

Soft, warm cloth. She was in a bed. Not falling, but laying in a bed. Relief coursed through her, cutting through the panic and terror, making her dizzy with it. Thank the Maker. Thank the bloody Maker. She knew, knew, that if she had still been falling, that if it was written somewhere that her destiny was to stay in that hell, she would have gone insane. Just the thought of it was enough to send shivers down her spine. 

Her eyes opened up slightly, once again to the burning lights. She swallowed the knee-jerk panic and opened her eyes further. She was in a room that was, she realized upon further inspection and growing confusion, made entirely of metal. Cool, smooth steel that covered the entire room. It should have been cold in here, but the air was pleasant, warm. The lights held no flame, though they burned just as bright. Magic, perhaps. A new spell that she really wish Morrigan or Wynne had known. The smoke from the fire had always made her sneeze.

Moving her gaze around, she saw crates that seemed to be made of the same material as the room, though they were white and covered in blinking, colorful lights. Colors she has never seen on anything but paintings and wondrous dreams. They were beautiful. Breathtaking. Where in the Void am I? A slight turn of her head showed more of the crates and... she froze.

It was him.

The strange man with the kind eyes from her dreams. From... from earlier, she remembered suddenly. They had fought, though she had been hazy with pain and fear, he had been an easy opponent. He had seemed to loom over her, his armor intimidating; it was bigger than the heavy armor Alistair had worn, though it had been the most intriguing blend of colors, not the gleaming silver of Ferelden. Intimidating; hard and unyielding, but not malicious, nor cruel. He had every chance to do her harm when she had fallen unconscious, yet he didn't. 

He had rescued her. For what purpose though? Because he was a good man, or because he had some underlying, contemptible use for her. She was not shackled to the bed, nor was she in a prison cell. Well, she did another quick survey of the room, she didn't think she was in a prison. It was difficult to discern where she was with all this gleaming metal surrounding her, though. There were no bars, no cells, and no guards. 

 

Well, save the man who was sitting across the room. 

She felt slightly better about her chances of escaping if the need arose. She had already bested him once, and that was when she was half-dead. He hadn't fought back though, now that she looked back, not really. Despite her every effort to do him harm, he had refrained from retaliating. Weak, Honor thought, or a kindness she had stopped expecting from strangers. 

He had also healed her. The wounds had been terrible, Honor knew some of them had even been fatal. Yet, the numerous scratches and cuts had been erased, with not even a single scar. Her side still stung from where the Archdemon's teeth had pierced her, but it was nothing close to the horrifying burn she had felt initially. A proficient healer, she approved.

 

Honor was still looking down at herself, when a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye had her tensing in warning, and wishing fervently for her blades. Helplessness was not a feeling she was used to, nor cared for. She had just pulled her fist back to strike the unknown assailant when a brown, fur covered head dropped down on the bed

Gaping, she barely managed to contain her gasp of surprise, or her instinctive reaction to throw her body to the side, putting herself out of arm's reach. Drinking in the sight before her, her jaw dropped, and a tiny, almost soundless squeak of happiness came out before she could stifle it. Maker's bloody breath. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly... A cold nose touched her hand, pulling her out of her reverie. 

It was Cheese. It was him. He was here. With her. Stuck in a strange place with no idea how they got here, stranded with people who wore colorful armor and had wicked looking weapons, in a world that seemed to be completely made of steel. But, how did he get here?The thought of him going through the same hell as she did... Maker. The thought of him suffering in any way made her sick, to her stomach. He nudged her with his nose, as if he knew what she was thinking, which he probably did, the smart boy; more settled than she has been since she battled the Archdemon on the rooftop, for now at least, she laid a hand on his head and went to wrap her arms around him.

 

Her side pulled slightly when she went to lean down towards him, and it hurt a bit more than she was comfortable with, so though she wanted to throw herself at him, she satisfied herself with stroking both hands over him. Assuring herself he was really here, that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. He was warm, strong, and so welcome that she could scream. Instead, she scratched him behind his ear. His favorite spot. 

He licked her hand and wiggled in joy. "Good boy." She breathed. "Bloody good boy." A piece of her world was right, was familiar, and though the rest of it was a torrential maelstrom of confusion and fear, this little bit, Cheese, was enough to allow her gain back some of resemblance of herself. A moment, she thought, just a moment to get myself together. To compose and to control. She took a deep breath, then another. 

 

Honor started when the soft quiet was interrupted by a vicious expletive. Her blood froze. Reason went out the window as panic grew in its place. 

 

"What?" He whispered furiously as he moved further away from her. Away. He's moving away. There was a buzzing in her ear, every nerve ending felt like it was on fire as she slowly grasped he wasn't speaking to her, the man wasn't even looking at her. He doesn't know I'm awake, Honor told herself, over and over again, as she struggled to reign in her emotions.

 

Deep breaths, Cousland, deep bloody breaths. 

 

Though she still felt as if she'd break into a million pieces with a simple touch and despite being so tense her muscles began to scream in protest, Honor managed to pull the tattered shreds of her control together and with the steely determination she had been teased unmercifully about for years, pushed all the uncertainty, the fear far away, tucking them into the corner of her mind, and forced herself to settle. 

 

Get it together, woman. This is no way a Warden would act. No way a Cousland would act. 

Mentally berating herself for the weakness, she watched the exchange between the man and woman. It was... interesting, watching them. Though he was a large man, intimidating and overbearing, yet the woman had no fear on her face as she spoke to him. Despite the thunderous scowl on his face and the string of curses that fell from his lips, she was smiling up at him, her eyes dancing with amusement. She cared for him, deeply. Honor could see that plainly, and though he was angry, he cared for her too. The man did not find whatever she had said as amusing. He growled something about injuries and vaygah, which just made the woman grin more. 

 

Perhaps he is a king. He certainly commanded such authority, seemed like a regal, capable leader. And yet, his eyes were always moving, always watchful. He was cautious, his movements deliberate and strong. No, she decided. No, this man was no king. This man is a warrior. His face was rugged, scarred. He was sporting a bruise under his eye and his lip seemed to have been split recently. But none of those things seemed to detract from his beauty. 

A handsome warrior. The thought was dreamy, overwhelming, and had her jerking up in horror. 

She darted a guilty look at the fuming man, then down at Cheese who nudged her leg. There was a light in his eyes, one that made her think that he knew all to well what his mistress had just been thinking about. Maker's balls. Did she really...? Stress, she reasoned, it's just stress and fear and more stress. Honor is most certainly not noticing how nice her captor looked. Damned idiot, she chided herself. Having girlish thoughts when not a few seconds ago you were having a mild panic attack. 

 

The urge to bury her face in her hands was strong, so strong. Never before has she been such an emotional wreck, and that she was acting so... fragile, as if she were no better than the simpering Noblewoman her parents had forced her to consort with on rare occasions. No, she is not some weak, spineless female. She is strong.. Strong, damn it. And until she figured out if they were friend or foe, please, please let them be friend, she had to stay strong. She had to find herself, her real self. Her old self. 

Being small in size, men had often seen her as weak, as a pushover, but with twenty years being trained with some of the best soldiers in Ferelden and her brother, she was strong. Fast, agile, and strong. She had long schooled herself to not give an inch, to never show weakness, and to always, always hide her emotions. People wielded such things as weapons and she was in no position to allow it. 

So, get yourself together, woman. She could practically hear Alistair's voice, could see him smirking at her as she rearranged her face into what she hoped was a polite, blank mask, her Noble face, as he had called it. Her heart ached . Cheese barked. To get her attention, to warn her, she didn't know. Honor threw him a bewildered look as the pair of them whirled around to face her. 

 

The first thing she noticed were his eyes. Glittering out from under a strong brow and a blackened eye, they were full of warning as she raised her head to meet his gaze head on, judged his reaction to her. The man was suspicious, that much was obvious. He trusted her as much as she trusted him. A fact that both reassured her and caused another little tremor of fear. They were at least somewhat on the same page, though he being in command and in his own domain gave him the upper hand. 

With a calmness she didn't really feel, she she put her hands in her lap, squeezing them together as tight as she could bear, putting all of her tension, her fear into the tight clench, she managed to keep her composure. Barely. 

"Hello... again. I'm--." His greeting was short, stilted, but as he spoke she remembered more and more of their first meeting. His name was Shepard. William Shepard. Commander of something. Friend or foe? Honor regarded him as he did the same to her. He didn't seem evil, nor cruel, but neither had Howe. 

"Commander Shepard." She said as her resolve hardened. No, she would not trust this man, nor anyone in this strange place. Not yet. 

 

You'll need him.

 

Flemmeth's words echoed through her mind. Bullshit, Honor thought as she crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his pose. I don't know him, how could I need a man I do not know? How can I save a man I've never met? Isn't that just the bloody question of the year. 

 

"Ma'am?" 

 

Both the commander and the grey-haired woman were watching her expectantly. Her stare was more curious, as if she was merely observing an experiment or collecting information, but his was intense, direct, and had her squirming despite herself. 

Her name, he was asking her name. To trust him would meaning taking one of the biggest risks of her life. Her name was known throughout the land, before as a traitor, now, hopefully, as a hero. Many would kill her because of her name. Other's would torture her and avenge the men she has killed. She was hated, revered, reviled. Which did he fit? 

He was still waiting. Silent, watchful, grim. 

 

A yearning to trust, to not have to suspect every new person she met of wanting to kill her, the need for a friend and to finally be able to relax her guard warred with the more reasonable part of her. If she did allow herself to trust these people and they turned out to be evil, if they tried to kill her... she wasn't too sure she had enough in her to stop them. 

Conflict, confusion, Maker, she didn't know what to do. If she didn't tell him, didn't allow him any insight, they would certainly kill her. She was a stranger, an unknown, she was dangerous to them. But if she did, then she'd be opening a part of herself that she had kept firmly shut for over two years. Maybe even longer than that, she thought sadly, of the years leading up to her family's slaughter. She had held a part of herself far from others, hiding the yearning and the need for adventure, the knowledge that she wanted more, to be more tahn some Nobel's wife. 

 

To trust him would be the hardest thing she has ever done. 

It was Cheese, her beautiful, faithful, trusting hound, who made the decision for her. Leaping gracefully up on to the bed, despite the woman's sound of protest, and carefully arranged his big body on the bed with her. She saw it, in his eyes, acceptance and understanding. He woofed softly. He was here for her, no matter what. 

So she took a deep breath, and answered, "My name is Honor Cousland."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"You're an asshole."

Ten looked up from her omni-tool, mind still full of repairs and upgrades for the Kodiak, she'd have to practically beg her brother for the funds to purchase that upgrade for the front-mounted mass accelerator cannons that would--- Right, Joker said something to her. "What? Asshole? Me. Oh." 

Joker eyes never left his screen, the diagnostics and readings of the Normandy's systems scrolling down at a speed only the most seasoned pilots could read. She leaned up against the panel and crossed her arms. "You're going to have to clarify, Joker, I've had a lot of asshole moments today." A metric shit ton, to be exact. And not just today either. She sighed, pretty much for the past twelve years. That's a lot of asshole moments. 

He snorted as he sent off his final report to Shepard. Closing down the maintenance screen, he switched the controls to auto-pilot. "That so doesn't surprise me." He returned her one-fingered salute. "I'm talking about your pissy threat to us. To me."

She smirked up at the pilot. Since EDI had gotten the sexbot body, she had taken Ten's old spot next to Joker, aka the only other seat on the helm, thus her current state of 'I'm fine on the floor, don't bother getting up EDI'. It wasn't so bad, she could stretch her legs out and lean against the cool metal panel on the other side of Joker, plus she was hidden from anyone who came into the room. . "I wasn't actually going to go through with it." 

"Yeah, like we was going to risk that." He muttered. "What had your panties in a twist anyways?"

"Stop being so concerned about my panties." 

"Why would I be concerned about your granny panties?"

Ten blushed. Damn her fair skin. "They are not granny panties, you perv." Serviceable white bikini briefs that come in twelve packs are not granny panties. "Screw you." 

Joker laughed and barely managed to dodge her fist. "You're blushing. Which means I'm right. God, I love being right. EDI, do you have those results from the--?"

“One moment, Jeff, I am conversing with the Commander.”

Ten frowned. “What about?”

Joker, oblivious of the dark cloud beginning to form over his friends head just snorted. “Probably about that woman that you guys saved. Vega said she was hot.”

 

"She was half-dead." 

 

Joker shrugged. "It's Vega." One of his lights began to flash red, which was so not good. Shit. When the accompanying alarm began to beep, he stole a quick glance at his co-pilot before quickly releasing the debris from the mass effect core. No doubt the AI would lecture him about the 'necessity of routine maintenance to ensure that the blah blah blah'. So sue him. He forgot. It's not like he was just being negligent, they just had to do a rescue mission after losing comms with Shepard. Relieved he managed to get rid of the build-up from the drive core before EDI noticed and yeah, before the ship blew up, he turned back to his friend. "He also said she beat the crap out of him first." 

The anger that she had been suppressing spewed over. “Vega is a goddamn idiot.”

Joker and EDI both just looked at her. The thunderous expression on her face faded as she realized her outburst. “Well, he is.” She said, defensively, her face still burning.

“Well, yeah. But damn, Ten. What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing.”

Joker rolled his eyes. “It didn't sound like nothing.”

“Pretty sure that’s how ‘nothing’ has sounded for the past few centuries.”

EDI spoke up. “One of the earliest western philosophers to consider nothing as a concept was Parmenides, who was a Greek philosopher of the Monist school in 5th Century BC. He argued that "nothing" cannot exist by the following line of reasoning—“

Both humans groaned. “EDI, she was being sarcastic.”

“Ah, then I would assume that you would not wish for me to continue explaining Parmenides concept of ‘nothingness’.”

Joker nodded, "Safe assumption." The AI shrugged, the action so human that it had the pilot grin. She was picking up small, human mannerisms more and more each day. He didn't know if it was because she was researching, or studying the crew, or just going with instinct --not that he knew if AI's could technically have instincts-- but whatever it was, he liked it. 

He also liked needling his friend, who was currently pouting, her arms crossed and lower lip sticking out. She looked pathetic. He'd wait her out. She rarely spoke about herself, but when it came to her brother the woman was vicious, protective. She'd crack, especially if he seemed unconcerned, and tell him what was bugging her. Cheerful now, he began to whistle as he continued to do the diagnostics check. 

Ten lasted all of two seconds before she blurted out, "I don't trust her." 

"Duh. No one does, Ten." Joker said this slowly, as if explaining something to a child. 

"Well, no one seems as concerned about having her on this ship. She's crazy. 

"How do you know she's crazy? You said she was unconscious when you first saw her."

Her expression went mulish. So what if she hasn't talked to the woman yet. She knew trouble. And her instincts were screaming that this woman was capital T-R-O-U-B-L-E. "She was. But Joker, the woman bitch slapped him for Christs sake, he has not just a black eye, but a busted lip--"

"Seriously? It's not like Jack or Wrex, or hell, Kaidan hasn't given him worse when they spar." It was low to mention the Major to her, but he felt that it would take low blows to get her to see reason. 

"She sliced his neck." She still remembered that small smear of blood. Still remembered the bone deep chill that slash of red brought. 

"Kaidan broke his nose. Jack sliced him pretty good when the corner of the crate she threw at him caught in the face. God, remember when you 'accidentally' kicked him in the nuts," his eyes darkened in sympathy and anger at the memory, "which was super not cool, Ten." 

The brief flare of emotion at the mention of Kaidan's name died when she realized that he was right. The bastard. "I didn't mean to. Not really," she said grumpily, "I can still be angry that someone has hurt my brother. He was trying to help her, and that's the thanks she gave him? Plus," she added forcefully when he muttered something that sounded a great deal like 'illogical hypocrite', "why am I the only one on this damned ship that seems concerned that we brought a woman who shows up practically pushing up daisies, in the middle of not just a storm, but a freak electrical storm slash goddamn earthquake. That doesn't seem, oh I don't know, just a little iffy to you? Maybe just a tad dangerous?"

 

He gave her a 'seriously?' look. Then began to count off his fingers, "Let's see: Jack was a murderous, psychotic biotic convict we had to break out of a high-security prison. The woman was in cryo, Ten. Jesus. Thane was a universally known badass assassin who we had to chase down during one of his damned jobs. Grunt was some wacko Krogan warlord's experiment. Need I go on?" Her expression went from stubborn to downright outrage. He said quietly, seriously, "Shepard doesn't think she's a threat." 

She snorted. "Yeah, that's because my brother isn't thinking with the right brain." 

"He just fricking met her. She was unconscious. Half-dead. Beat to shit. And you think that your brother has the hots for her? Please tell me you know how ridiculous that sounds."

Ten conceded that with a slight tilt of her head. "Okay. So maybe he's just being a nice guy. When has that worked out for us?"

"I do not understand how the commander is in possession of a different brain." EDI cocked her head to the side as she considered Ten's previous statement. "I don't believe that the commander- oh. You are referring to the ubiquitous human aphorism that implies that the human male 'has two heads and one brain'. An apt statement for most males."

"Thanks for the support, EDI." Ten crossed her arms at Joker's skeptical snort. "You're starting to irritate me, Morreau." 

Unconcerned, Joker dismissed her with a shrug. "When don't I? Listen, Ten, your brother isn't an idiot, and there is no way in hell he'd put the crew in danger. Not even to be a 'nice guy'." 

Ten grew silent at that. Silent, contemplative. It was a mood Joker was familiar with, and knew enough to leave her be for the time being. He'd let her work through whatever the hell she was trying to work through, and if need be, he'd give her support or a metaphoric slap of sanity. It could go either way with this particular woman. 

Minutes passed by in relative silence, the only sounds the occasional whir of movement from EDI and the huff of irritation from Ten. Other than that, it was just him, his ship, and the stars. Man, he loved moments like these. Quiet, uninterrupted moments of sort of solitude where he could just fly. No reports of death, no hails for rescue. Just a few moments to be. 

Ten hated being wrong. Hated being irrational and hypocritical. But she hated uncertainty more. And that woman had uncertainty written all of her. She couldn't be the only one worried about the Normandy's new guest. Yeah, her brother was smart, a good judge of character, blah blah blah. This was different though. He was different. There was too much at stake. Their world was screwed up enough with the Reapers and Cerberus, they didn't need to add another threat to that list. 

Scrubbing her hands over her face, she looked up, her mood bleak. Joker and EDI worked in harmony, most of the time sitting there in utter silence. A team, she thought when EDI smiled at Joker. A good team. Joker caught her studying them, and grinned at her. A smug, smug grin. 

"I don't know why you look so damned smug, but I will break your face if you don't stop." Ten glared at the smirking helmsman from her position on the floor. 

Knowing his friend too well, Joker attempted to scoot out of reach before replying. "You're pouting."

Scoffing at that, refusing to acknowledge that yeah, she may be pouting, and yes pouting is not what mature adults do, but ever since they picked up the wayward waif and her dumb dog, her brother hasn't been able to spare some time for her. All she wanted to do was give him her opinion regarding the Jane Doe and asshole dog. They'd been back on the Normandy for five hours, and all he's done so far is bark an order at her to 'fix the damn Kodiak'. Which meant he had seen the huge scrape. She frowned, how could he have possibly seen it? 

Nevertheless, she had fixed the damn dent and the scrape and had tuned up the propulsion system because a wire had came loose in the storm, and still not one peep from Will. Ten wasn't dumb, nor was she that egotistical, she knew that the needs of the crew, of the ship came first, but hell, five hours was a long enough wait. Especially for an impatient OCD nutcase like herself. 

 

Yeah, she wasn't dumb, she knew evasive maneuvers when she saw them. Ducking through the CIC pretending to be so very immersed in whatever was on his data pad, closing the elevator door behind him before anyone else could get on, and then there he went, rushing into the Med-bay and locking it behind him so no one could go in. 

A trait she was well versed with. He had used it enough when they were younger. He'd evade her long enough so that by the time she caught up with him, she'd have calmed down. So, it was more like he was avoiding the inevitable fight. Because there would be a fight. Because I suck, she finally admitted. Tired, sick of herself, she laid her head back against the control panel and closed her eyes. "I suck." There, she said it. Out loud, to the world. At least, to Joker and EDI. It's a start. 

Admitting you have a problem is the first step to overcoming it. Or something like that. 

"Well, hopefully you're at least charging them for your services-- Ouch! Hey, jerk, I'm fragile, watch where the hell you aim that thing." Still rubbing his shin where she had kicked him, he glared glumly at her and her offending foot. "Lucky you didn't break anything." He muttered. 

"Oops!" She said, innocently. Fluttering her eyes, she put a hand over her heart. "Bless my soul, I'm just so clumsy some times." 

"Clumsy, my ass." 

"You don't have an ass." 

"I like your ass." 

Joker sighed at his co-pilot as Ten hooted with laughter. "Thanks, EDI. Remind me again why we're friends?" This was directed at Ten, who was finally quieting down, tears of mirth rolling down her flushed face. 

"Because I'm charming? Beautiful? Best damn pilot you've ever seen?" 

"Because we're both too ornery to have any other friends." Joker amended. "And we all know I'm a better pilot than you, Ten." 

"Kiss ass. You may be able to make the Normandy dance, but let's face it pal, you're absolute garbage flying small boys, unlike moi." She flexed her arms when Joker snorted, his fingers moving over the illuminated controls. She grinned at the familiar bickering. This had long been a disagreement between the two pilots. Ever since they had been vying for the top spot at flight school. He had beat her, barely, and had never let her forget it."Haven't we had this argument before?"

"I've counted thirteen times in the past two weeks," EDI said. 

 

Joker and Ten both considered that. "Seems a bit much." Ten finally said. 

"Nah, sounds pretty tame to me. Especially for two hard-head people like us. Especially because we both know that I--"

"Beat me on the last flight set by point oh seven points. You cheated." Ten finished for him.

 

Shocked, he gaped at her. "The hell you say. I did not cheat. I didn't have to cheat. I'm just better." He said, defensively. 

 

Ten waved at hand at him. "You may have beaten me overall, but we both know," she continued, her voice tinged with mocking, "that I hands down beat you in subsidiary exams. The only thing that screwed me was the--"

"Stupid flight instructor who had it out for you because you beat up his sister." Joker had heard her excuse enough times over the years to know that it still struck a nerve. He also, though he would cut off his own hands before telling her this, agreed with her that her proctor had it out for her. Ten may have not started the fight with Jessie Collins, but holy shit had she finished it. "Same old excuses, Ten." 

 

Ten opened her mouth, no doubt to blast him, when EDI stood up, cutting her off before she could get going. Thank God. "We should go down to the Crew deck. Mid-rats is almost over. You have not eaten since this morning."

Joker clamored out of his chair, "Sounds good to me!" He glanced at Ten, who made the 'whip' gesture with her hands accompanied by the appropriate whipping noise. "What the hell?" 

"I believe the Lieutenant Commander is trying to insinuate that I have you-- whipped." 

Joker gave her a horrified look. "EDI-- seriously?" 

“That is an incorrect assumption. We have not established a serious relationship, though human customs do dictate that the symbiotic connection we have built over the past year could insinuate a pseudo-relationship.” She paused and gave Jeff a very human, very female smile. “I believe I would like to be in a relationship with you, Jeff.”

If Joker wasn't already weak with shock, that statement would have knocked him on his ass. As it was, he fell back into his seat with an audible, “Huh.” They had talked, briefly, awkwardly, because he is an awkward guy and she takes everything so damn literally, about their unusual bond, unusual because he’s a disabled Alliance pilot and she’s an AI. But she had never… he never knew… “Holy shit.”

Ten watched the exchange with a varying degree of emotion. Part of her was elated. Joker was one of her closest friends and the fact that he had finally found someone who could handle all of his B.S made her grin. She was happy for him, for both of them, but she couldn't help but feel jealous.

And as her friend stuttered and mumbled to himself as the AI walked away, she felt guilty of being jealous. Of wishing that it were her and Kaidan going through the awkward stages of dating, that she was the one making the sentinel stammer and blush. But it wasn't and there were a million and twelve things she and said sentinel had to talk about, get over, forgive before they could even consider beginning the awkward dating thing.

 

Maybe she should just suck it up, her pride, her fear, and send him an message. It'd be easier, cowardly, but easier for her to talk about everything without his damned eyes boring into her. She sighed. Beautiful, serious golden eyes, and ugh, sometimes October you are such a sap. But God, if this wasn't the time to go for it; she didn't know when it'd be. There was a war, one where they might not survive, and she'd never forgive herself, or him, if they didn't at least try. 

 

So, it’s decided then. I'm going to mend things with Kaidan, stop being such a bitch to my brother, and well, she'd wait on making an oath to God and the world about the unwanted guest. She may be innocent, maybe, but she was dangerous. No one just appears like she did, in her condition no less, and not be dangerous. 

“What the hell just happened?” Joker asked her after a few moments of minor freaking out. Her friend's obvious, and audible, turmoil had her placing her own equally confusing, equally troubling thoughts away and focus on him. “Did she—did I? What?” 

“What just happened,” October said as she climbed up from her spot on the ground. She put a hand out to the still stunned pilot and pulled him up from the seat when he put his hand in hers. “Is that you just got the biggest, most in your face, point-blank green-light you may ever get in your life.”

Joker laughed, but it may have been close to a whimper. “She… I don’t know. Am I crazy for wanting this? For wanting us?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because she’s an AI and I could break a rib with some light over the clothes action.”

“One: eww. Two: Who cares?” The QIC was empty, which is especially suspicious, considering the situation in the universe at the moment. “Where the hell is everyone?”

“Um. I don’t know.”

Ten rolled her eyes. "Come on; let's go down to the Crew deck." The man was still in shock, and considering the bombshell EDI had dropped on him, she couldn’t blame him. Dragging him, slowly, through the QIC, she tried to think of the words to say, something, anything, to push her friend to do this. He deserved to be happy. How would he say it? Ten asked herself, then laughed because she knew exactly how he would say it. 'Stop being such a girl and go for it. And stuff'. 

 

God, we are both so painfully awkward. “Joker,” Her tone had gotten serious, more serious because their time was on the limited side of things, tomorrow wasn't promised, and forever was just a myth. “Go for it.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Get happy. Get laid.” 

“God.” He whispered and pulled the brim of his hat down, hiding his face.

She pressed the control to summon the elevator, and watching his face carefully, gleefully added, “Just make sure you wear protection! Wouldn't want any mini-Jokers running around, would we?”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some explicit language. Hey, they're marines, they cuss. So sue me!
> 
> Also:  
> Discussions -- interrogations-- are always better shirtless, right? 
> 
> Oh, and sorry it took me so long to update. 
> 
>  
> 
> And to down_the_hatch, the reason I wrote like a demon whenever I had any free time. I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to send you the chapter before I posted it. Failsauce? 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! It as TWENTY FOUR pages on Word. Holy Crap. 
> 
> I love hearing how awesome the story is! Also, I enjoy getting constructive criticism. Note: Telling me my story sucks? Not constructive. 
> 
> Thanks and love to all,
> 
> Jetaime

The lights burned brightly as the man scurried back and forth. His mutterings were low and garbled, to anyone listen they would sound like he was insane, but he wasn’t. He was Doctor Oliver Hansen and he was one of the most brilliant geneticists alive. Classical music from over four hundred years ago played over his speakers, the quiet violins and despairing pianos though usually enjoyed by the occupant of the house were being largely ignored, nothing but white noise to the excited man. 

He held a data pad in each hand; the results of the tests he had done on the sample of blood he had received from Kahrin, God, he had never seen such a thing. He had ran the same test three times, just to make sure that his results weren’t some cockamamie, rookie mistake that he really couldn’t see himself making. 

But his findings had been right. Whoever’s blood he had tested was not of this universe. Couldn’t be. The lack of antigens and antibodies that every human was pumped full of at birth was rare, but explainable. The dark, writhing mass that was warring within her blood, now that was impossible. 

It was as if it were a disease, the way it attacked the red and white blood cells within her. Yet, she is alive. Healthy, even. He needed to see her, to study her. He dropped the data pads to the floor, kicked them away as he ran to his desk. Excited now, his fingers shook as he typed a message. 

 

Kahrin, 

This is amazing. Simply bloody amazing. I’ve studied the sample you sent me. Extensively. The preliminary tests have shown the expected – normal – results. Gender, age, etc., but upon further study, I found a foreign body in her blood. It is attacking her red and white blood cells – killing them. 

I’ve found no traces of neither any antibodies, nor any antigens or traces of any element that most species, especially humans, now possess in their blood due to space travel and the medicines we receive upon birth. She has trace levels of iron and lead, while on their own is nothing of note, but holy Christ, Kahrin. She has bloody Mercury in her blood. Mercury! An abnormal amount. That coupled with whatever is attacking her blood cells… Well, I’ve never seen anything like it.

Her armor though, if I’m not mistaken, has markings that I have seen before. I had an colleague a few years ago who left to study some sort of ‘mythical warrior’. The images she showed me had drawings startlingly close to the markings on the woman’s armor. I believe she calls them the Warriors of Grey. I always thought that she was a bit... eccentric (Crazy). But it seems now that she may actually be on to something. I have sent my findings to her as well. Her name is Dr. Penelope Bennett, I would advise you to contact her as soon as possible--

 

A thump behind him had him pausing in his typing. His apartment was not in the best part of the Citadel, mostly because he spent most of his money furthering his research or purchasing new equipment for his studies, but he has never had any issues with crime, so after a few moments of silence, he shrugged and continued to type his message. 

\--I’m forwarding all the data I collected on the tests. I would like to examine her further, if it is possible. If you are to be on the Citadel anytime soon, please let me know. Kahrin, this might be the biggest find since the Prothean ruins on Mars! 

Your Friend,

Dr. Hansen

He reached for his glass of whiskey as he sent the message, sipping quietly as he waited for his admittedly slow system tried to process his request. “Might be time to buy a new computer.” He muttered darkly, wishing fervently for the days of old where everything was recorded on paper. “Bloody thing.” 

He shot back the rest of his drink, years of drinking tempered the bite of flavor that burned down his throat, the warm glow as familiar as the taste of the aged whiskey he spent way too much money on.

Mind flashing to the test results he had received from the Normandy, to the intriguing blood samples and images he had poured over for hours before responding to Dr. Chakwas message. A woman, he mused, did not just appear out of nowhere, covered in star dust, beaten and bloody. 

Then there was that matter; the dark, writhing mass that warred within her blood. A disease perhaps? A distant ding signaled his message had finally sent. Good. He’d give his friend a day to reply before he went to the Council. He had to get on that ship. The woman was a mystery. He loved mysteries. Perhaps it is a mutation. Could be, he thought as he swirled the whiskey in the glass, perhaps a genetic mutation. She could have been exposed to some sort of radioactive material; or some sort of alien element that has yet been discovered. 

So engrossed in his thoughts he didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind him. He was still staring at the data pad in his hands when he felt a tiny prick on his neck. A bug? On the Citadel? Odd. He slapped at his skin, still focused on the data in front of him. He couldn’t find any other sign of mutation in her results though-- disregarding the obscene amount of Mercury he had found – her iron levels were normal, perhaps a bit high, but that could be attributed to high stress or travel. 

“Hmmm…” He began to hum along with the music. The glass was set down, a bit harder than he expected, the golden liquid inside dancing wildly in the glow of the room. “Hmm.” 

He was focused, so focused on the data in front of him. Possibilities flew through his mind—little thoughts and musings, dismissed almost as fast as they formed. It was when he felt his extremities begin to go numb when he felt a sliver of panic. He looked up, a movement in the darkness finally alerting him to the danger. 

The shadow moved. Striking quick and deadly, the glint of silver a beacon in the dim glow of his equipment. He felt a slight pressure on his back and then a searing, burning pain. He had be stabbed. The blade flashed again. 

He managed to shove himself back, out of the knives’ path. The shadow cursed as he fell, crashing into his desk, sending everything flying as he landed on the floor. The numbness was beginning to spread, over his arms and legs, up his chest, until he could barely breathe under the strain. He was bleeding. He could see it pooling around him. It wasn’t fatal though, the clinical, sane part of his brain diagnosed, if he could apply pressure. If he could move.

But he couldn’t. God help him, he couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. The shadow was nothing more than a whisper as it moved around him. He tried again to move, to lash out at the monster moving so calmly, so unrushed above him. Fought to speak, to scream for help; but he couldn’t. All he could do was watch. And wait. 

He could hear the shadow moving around his apartment, the light tapping as it crouched near his fallen desk, its fingers moving steadily across the illuminated keyboard. He heard another curse, this one quiet, violent. He closed his eyes, prayed as he felt more than saw the intruder move towards him. 

“He already sent the data back. I have him detained. Orders?” The words were stilted, angry. Good, he thought with grim satisfaction, if he was to die, at least he would die knowing the shadow didn’t get what it wanted. 

“Kill him.”

This time, when he saw the blade, he just closed his eyes. And prayed. 

 

 

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that he had lost control of the situation. One moment everything was going relatively smooth. As smooth as it could go, considering he had a dog the size of a shuttle and a barely-healed woman who had fallen out of the sky on his ship. Once he had gotten some clothes for Honor to put on, baggy sweats borrowed from Gabby, he managed to finally steer her towards explaining how she had ended up on Valence. 

His questions were careful, considering. Her answers were just as careful. They were sizing each other up, gauging each other’s reactions and body movements. He studied her face, her eyes as she spoke; she watched his every movement, as if she was expecting an attack. As if she wanted a fight. 

He had been hammering her with questions for the past hour. Rapid fire interrogations punctuated only by Dr. Chakwas checking up on her patient.  
It was beginning to wear on her; the constant badgering, and the forceful interrogation. It seemed as if the more she told him, the less patience he had with her. After he had asked her for the third time how she had ended up on this ‘planet’, and she had repeated her answer, the same one she had given before, he snapped. 

His voice deepened, the cool, detached tone going to smoke, "Listen, Miss Cousland, it’s about damn time you start being straight with me. I need some damned answers.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past hour? Writing poetry?”

His lips twitched. Damned if she wasn’t a little smart ass. “I think you’ve been playing a game. Making it up as you go. So how about you start telling me the truth. The whole truth. Starting from the beginning.” He needed to know what happened. He needed to know the truth. If she turned out to crazy, getting her help – aka locking her up in the loony bin—was an option. If she was the enemy... he’d have little choice… He needed her to give him another choice.

Her eyes flashed briefly, hotly, before they cooled. She nodded stiffly. “As you wish, Commander.” Her chin tilted up, just a fraction of an inch, but the amount of ‘screw-you’ in the action was almost as blatant as the middle finger. He had pissed her off. Dandy. Seems to be his day for pissing women off. “Shall I begin with the creation of the Thedas or would you prefer a more recent historical summary?”

Smart ass, huh? Her delivery was done smoothly, with absolutely no change in her expression, still with the same cool, polite tone. Cool as a cucumber, thank you very much indeed. He couldn't help but appreciate and acknowledge the sentiment. “More recent history, if you would.” He said with a wry twist of his mouth. 

She had not talked to anyone about her family’s murders. Not even Alistair, one of her closest, dearest friends. He had tried, sure. Day after day, from the first time she had met him he had stumbled through an attempt at getting her to talk. She had refused, at first she had been almost cruel with her refusal to talk, but after a few months the pain had be easier to ignore, his thoughts easier to divert to talks of Leliana. She had appreciated him though. 

It had been so much easier for her to push it aside, to bottle it up and pretend that it didn’t happen than to admit that she had failed them, failed everyone. There was a certain emptiness that she could lose herself in as they fought to end the Blight, a numbing, blank fathom she could retreat into any time she thought about them. 

So to speak of it now, it was as if she were ripping open wounds that had healed years ago, the lies she told herself, that she told others easily tearing under the cold truth. She was slicing herself open, baring her soul and her sorrow to a man who held her life, her future in his hands. He was in charge of her fate, and the uncertainty, the not knowing was killing her, a painful addition to her shaken resolve. 

Her mind flashed to Alistair, in the one rare moment where he got her to talk. She remembered sympathy shinning in his eyes. His words had seemed so… so naïve then, but now… now they seemed kind, mature. True.

He had been a friend, a true friend, at a time in her life when she had desperately needed one. She didn’t notice that her expression had grown wistful, her smile sad. Will noticed though. Saw the range of emotions on her face in that one unguarded moment before the mask slipped back on. 

Honor crossed her hands over her lap, met the steady gaze of the commander. It helped her, she realized as she took a deep breath, his detached, almost blank expression. Helped her pull the shreds of her sanity around her. 

Nodding, she took a deep breath, and then another one. She can do this, she has to do this. But where to start? How to start? How do you explain these things? They already didn't believe her, so what would they do when they heard her whole story. Panic once again reared its ugly head as she attempted to sort through her thoughts. Sensing her distress, Cheese nudged her clenched fists with his nose. She smiled slightly down at him. Right, at the beginning then, Honor.

 

He gave nothing away, this Commander Shepard. His expression never changed, he just listened and watched her. Silent and foreboding. She tried not to show her fear, but with her emotions raw and her control in shatters, it was becoming harder and harder not to falter under his unrelenting gaze. 

“That’s it.” 

Will had listened to her story with growing dread. Her tale was a bloody one, painful and dark and despite what she was describing; the slaughter of her family, fighting for her life everyone moment for the past few years, and then sacrificing herself to end the threat, she never wavered. Her words were careful, even, she never changed her tone or showed any sort of outward sign that she was distressed. 

Until her eyes met his. Control clearly shaken, she was unable to completely hide her pain, her uncertainty. He felt guilty, sure, it sounded as if she had fought her way through hell just to end up in a different type of one and that she truly believed what she was saying to be true, but he knew, with a sort of grim acceptance that Honor Cousland was disturbed and he had to get her help. 

Other than the fact that he had indeed brought an insane woman onto his ship and possibly endangering not only his crew, but his friends and family, something about her story was bothering him. And the burning curiosity overrode any inclination he had to not encourage her. 

Feeling more and more like he had somehow fallen into the Twilight Zone, and feeling only slightly ridiculous, he asked her, "Why did you have to kill it? Weren't there other people," other soldiers, warriors, kings, someone other than this tiny, pale woman in front of him, "to do it?"

 

"Anyone can kill its body, but its soul would have just merged with the nearest darkspawn, and it would have then become invincible, as a darkspawn is soulless. I'm sure if you were able to kill every darkspawn in existence then you could have destroyed the Archdemon... No, it had to be a Grey Warden, it had to be me. The Grey Wardens carry a taint in their soul, so when her soul and my soul merged... then both our souls should have been destroyed." 

 

"You said there were more of you though, more of these Wardens."

 

Honor nodded at Chakwas. "Yes, there was another. Alistair. He was to be king and Ferelden desperately needed a king like him. He had found love. He had a future. So, I sent him away, and then I killed the demon." 

The answer bothered him more than he wanted to admit. And damn it, he was a little in awe of her. Maybe even respected her. Not everyone would make that kind of sacrifice and damn it again—he was acting like this really happened. It didn’t matter how honest or sincere she sounded, the woman was sick. Not indoctrinated – brainwashed maybe. He need to get her help. It was the least he could do. 

It was in this moment when all hell broke loose.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Will had to admit, that could have gone a lot better. 

A whole hell of a lot better. He glared at the elevator doors as he descended down to the Shuttle Bay; as if the gleaming metal was to blame for his loss of control. His utter lack in professionalism and command. God. Abandoning his glare, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. The resounding thud as his head met the unyielding wall was satisfying, the rush of pain a welcome distraction. 

Unwanted, unwelcome images of standing toe to toe with their new guest; green eyes flashing, full mouth set in a grim line, hair a fiery tangle around her face as she glared up at him. His control had snapped the second she opened her mouth and insulted him. 

It had never happened to him before. Not really. Losing control was equal to losing a limb. He had always prided himself on the tight leash he held on his anger. Despite the popular belief that his twin had gotten all the flash and fire, he had a wicked temper. It was almost second nature to hold it back, to keep a vicious, tight choke hold on his emotions. 

But he had lost it, William admitted with a low groan. 

God, she was half-dead not a few hours ago and he got into a screaming match with the woman. Not that she had sat there, like a fragile little flower and let him rage, no, oh, no. Not this one. She had gone toe to toe with him, despite the fact she was almost a foot shorter than him, and that she was pale and shaking and in pain. 

He had been called things he had never heard before. He still didn't know what 'nug-humping' meant, but the rest of her tirade he mostly understood. Thank God. He had never had a problem keeping up with anyone. Hell, look at his crew. If he could handle the likes of Jack and Grunt and his sister, then you’d think he’d have no problem handling a five foot two little slip of a woman.

It was galling, painful even, how easily he had lost it with Honor. It’s not as if he hasn’t had his entire life dealing with women. His twin, whom he loved with all his heart, was the epitome of an irrational, infuriating pain in the ass, and he has never--- maybe once or twice… or three or four times—lost his cool with her. 

Jesus. He had withstood years of ridicule and disbelief, people whispering and blaming him and had he broke? No. He had taken it. Bit back the fury and the hurt and trucked right along. Even now, with the knowledge that he had been right all along, that he was the good guy, people still judged him, still accused him of atrocities and still he managed to keep calm. 

But one little redhead had managed to snap that carefully constructed, ruthless grip on his control with one smartass comment. 

In the room Dr. Chakwas had declared her own, the neutral domain where everyone was treated the same despite rank, and he had shredded that carefully constructed veneer within moments. The room had smelled of antiseptic and medi-gel, the glare from the lights beaming down on them with enough power to make him sweat. 

 

The elevator lurched to a halt. He pushed himself up off the wall as the doors opened. He could hear James and his twin bickering, hurtling insults and quips back and forth as he walked through the shuttle bay. Ten was mean, always quick with a sarcastic jibe, but Vega was just as good, if not better since he was more likely to embarrass you than insult you. 

Ten hated being embarrassed. 

“So, Shepard,” James called out turning from his fuming sister, leaned against his workbench with a huge grin on his face. His hands, grimy from the gun he had been cleaning, crossed over his chest. “How’d it go with the loco hottie?”

Will cursed softly as the other man grinned, knowing full and well his comment had the desired effect. “That good, huh?”

“Anyone tell you that you’re a huge pain in the ass, Vega? No. Don’t you dare say what you’re about to say.” The wicked gleam in the other man’s gaze was enough to alert Will to the type of answer he was going to get. “Why did I bring you with me again?”

“Can’t be for his good looks. Definitely not his marksmanship. Maybe because he’s an easy target for poker?” Garrus asked, walking up behind him. 

“Man that was one time. One freaking time you beat me—“

Garrus interrupted him. “I beat the shit out of you.” He still could see the look of abject dismay on the human’s face as he handed over his credit chit. “Two thousand three hundred credits of shit, actually.”

“Your paycheck,” Will shot a look at the lieutenant, who shrugged sheepishly, “you bet your entire paycheck?”

“He lost his entire paycheck,” Garrus corrected gleefully, his subvocals humming at the memory. “Helped me buy my new visor, in fact.”

“He cheated.” 

“You’re just a sore loser.” He was enjoying himself now. The lieutenant was competitive and hated having his loses rubbed in his face. Naturally, that meant that Garrus tried to do it at least three times a day. “Don’t worry, Vega. I’ll wait till you get paid before I kick your ass again.”

“Fuc—“

“Guys. Shut up.” He stalked by them, ignoring their ‘Shutting up!’ and ‘Aw, you’re no fun!’ 

“Clear out, Ten.” Ten threw him an irritated glare as he skirted past her. He was almost definitely not in the mood to deal with his twin. Especially because she was still pissed. Slamming tools down, muttering under her breath, he was grateful when she headed over to the elevator without a fight. Time would probably lessen her anger. Or it’d make it worse. He’d deal with it later. Right now, he needed to deal with a more pressing matter. 

The ‘pressing matter’ was laying on the floor, by the loading doors. 

"Bomb?" Garrus asked, as they stood around the faded, brown leather bag. Their initial scans had shown them absolutely nothing. No traces of explosives. No wires or cables. Will would have felt better if they'd have found something, anything. "Scans didn't find any reaper tech. Or any signs of tampering or radio waves."

"It weighed a metric fuck ton." James said, rolling his shoulders back. "Can't imagine a little thing like her being able to carry it. Maybe it isn't hers." 

Will shook his head. "It can't be a coincidence we found the thing not ten feet from where Honor was. Didn't you say Cheese led you to it?"

"Yep."

WIll made a noise as he contemplated. It could have come from miners from the colony on the planet. Smugglers. Pirates. "It has to be hers." Will was not a big believer in coincidence. No way would it show up at the same time as her, then they find it only because her dog lead them to it, only for it left there by someone else. 

"Still don't think she could carry it. I could barely carry it."

"Did you think she could kick Shepard's ass?" Garrus wanted to know, his mandibles clicking in the Turian version of a smirk when Will shot him the bird. 

"True." James laughed, then laughed harder when Will stalked away, muttering under his breath. "Man. I'm never going to get tired of hearing that. Or remembering that. Hah! Tink flipped him right over her head. Not that it's that high off the ground." 

"What is a Tink?" 

"Tinkerbell? You know, from Peter Pan. She’s a tiny little fairy with attitude. It’s her nickname. What?" he asked with a shrug when Garrus just looked at him. "Just because she's crazy, possibly an assassin, definitely dangerous, doesn't mean she doesn't get a nickname. I have one for everyone. You're Scars--"

"Real original." Garrus commented dryly. "It's not like half my face is one big scar or anything."

"See! It fits. I couldn't call you... Birdman or Archangel. Or--"

"Can we focus here?" Will tossed Garrus some boots "Mag boots." He clarified when the Turian stood there, watching as they landed in front of him. James managed to catch the boots, but dropped them when Will tossed him a fire extinguisher. Barely stopping it before it hit him in the face. Will smirked at the lieutenant’s low curse. "Vega. I want you on the left, Garrus by the controls. If it is a bomb, we're spacing it. Mag boots on." The three men pulled their uniform boots off before pulling the heavier magnetic boots on. 

“Ready?” When he got an affirmative from the other two, he took a deep breath. “Alright on the count of three. One, two, three.”

 

 

 

Stop being an idiot. Talk to her. 

-Joker

 

PS: Glad you didn't get dead. 

Kaidan chuckled morosely at that. Yeah, he didn’t get dead, but he got damned close. Closer than he has ever gotten before, and that’s saying something considering his time on the Normandy before. He had survived a hell of a lot, and this was just one more thing to add to his ever growing list of ‘close-calls’. This close call though, was one for the books. It’s not every day you get an ass kicking courtesy of a Cerberus AI. 

God, his ass had been royally kicked. He still had to move slowly, carefully. Every second brought a symphony of pains and aches, each breath more painful than the last, but he was alive. Goddamn it, he was alive and he would suffer no ill side effects, so why was he being so damned pitiful? 

It wasn’t like him to wallow around in self-pity and regrets, not really. 

 

Fighting through the pain, he managed to adjust himself into a more bearable position. The mattress was soft as a cloud, and ironically, really uncomfortable. He was so used to his narrow, stiff bunk that this small hospital bed seemed palatial. He missed his bunk. 

Priorities, Alenko. He'd shake his head at himself, but he knew without a doubt the action would bring crippling pain. He was lucky to be alive, even more luckier not to have any lingering side effects, save for the headaches, after being pummeled by the cybernetic, and here he was complaining about sleeping on a comfortable bed. 

It burned though, the thought of being stuck in a bed while his friends, his family, were out there fighting the good fight. He wanted to help, needed to help. Unfortunately, he could barely lift a finger without a cacophony of aches and pains, so there was no way he was getting out of this hospital room. 

He wanted out of this damned room. He wanted a beer, or several, and one of his mother’s famous BLTs would hit the spot. He wanted her. 

“Shit.” There was a lot of unfinished business between him and October Shepard. A hell of a lot of anger and mistrust, and a whole hell of a lot of idiocy. On both their parts, he admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. 

He had been a cruel, spiteful jackass back on Horizon. Shepard had been working with Cerberus, but Kaidan knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it, that Shepard would never align himself with them unless things were really desperate. And they were, are, he amended when an alarm went off in the hallway, signaling a new rush of patients. 

An announcement came over the 1C, requesting any and all doctors trained in human anatomy. Though the Plexiglas windows of his room dampened most of the outside noise, he could still hear the doctors and nurses yelling and cursing, the woman screaming as the people around her began to work frantically to save her. 

He tried not to stare, tried not to imagine himself in her very position, tried not to notice the blood pooling under the gurney, or the two bloody stumps where her legs should have been. 

“Cerberus attack.” He heard one doctor say. 

“Goddamn it.” Another replied. 

“Blood pressure rising. One Ninety over one twenty—“

He prayed when the screaming stopped. Prayed for the nameless, faceless woman as the doctor shook her head grimly. She pulled the sheet up and over the woman’s face, and with eyes sad and resigned, the crowd dissipated, already preparing themselves for the next patient. It was a cold, numbing comfort to them that there would always been another to save, to struggle and fight for their life. He didn’t envy them at all.

The doctor heaved in one last breath before she placed a datapad on the woman’s chest. She spoke to the man waiting behind her, who nodded and began to push the woman’s body away. He could see the tension in the doctors posture, hell, he could practically feel the sadness, the rage--- the helplessness that seemed to pulse off her in waves.

Her white doctor’s coat was splattered with blood, streaks of red contrasting sharply with the once pristine white. She shuddered once, a hard, sharp movement, before walking away. He didn’t know how she did it, how any of them did it. Sure, he was usually on the front lines, in danger, fighting for his life more often than not, but these men and women fought for so many lives every day. Sometimes they won. He was betting most times they failed. 

God, this war is hell. 

So, Alenko, are you going to just sit here, wallowing in self-pity, wondering if things could be different, or are you going to actually do something to make things different? How did Joker put it? Don’t be stupid? He had been plenty stupid over the past few years. Maybe it is about damned time he changed that. 

Before he could chicken out, change his mind, or pass out from the drugs they were pumping through his veins, he reached over for his omni-tool, his movements still damnably slow and uncoordinated, and quickly typed in a message. 

Sending it before he could change his mind, before he could chicken out, he felt a small twinge of… something. Fear, apprehension, like maybe she doesn’t feel the same way anymore, maybe he had irreversibly screwed up any chance he had with her. Hope that he hadn’t, that they still had a chance to make things right, that even with the world exploding around them that they could still find each other, forgive each other. 

“Screw it.” He muttered as he closed down his omni-tool, tossing it back onto the stand next to his bed. “October Shepard, the ball is in your court now.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been awhile. A long-a lot-longer-than-I-wanted while. I'd like to make a hundred different excuses that sound both plausible and understandable, but I hate making excuses. So, bottom line, I struggled writing this chapter. So much that I kind of had to take a break because I was driving my husband insane, and my dog was afraid to come near me. After starting and deleting a metric butt-load of chapters, I finally started on a path that I liked. And this is the outcome. 
> 
> I also managed to write most of the next chapter. I'm not going to give a post-date, because if I miss it I'll feel guilty. Instead, I promise I'll get it out sooner than a few months from now. 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Explicit language. I'd like to say that I'm a lady and do not use this kind of language in real life, but I do. And if I do, so do my characters. I'm ashamedly not sorry. 
> 
> While I will apologize for any typos/other discrepancies as I do not have a beta/proof reader (no matter how much I bribe my husband he just won't do it), I hope you enjoy this chapter as I enjoyed writing it and always let me know what you think. Doesn't have to be love, I'd rather the love, but if you have some friendly advice, some suggestions, some requests, etc, I'd love to hear them! 
> 
> Love,  
> Jetaime

\--One Hour Earlier--

She was shaking. Trembling as if she were some weak, contemptible fool. Honor Cousland was no fool, nor was she the delicate, fragile woman that William Shepard thought she was. 

It had taken everything she had, all that was left in her to tell him these things. She felt as if her very soul had been sliced open to reveal her true self to him and he had just dismissed it, dismissed her as some loony woman. 

He had told her, gently, calmly- he was so bloody, infuriatingly calm - that he was going to make sure she got the ‘help she needed’. “Bullshit.” She spat out as soon as he had finished explaining their plans for her. She had a moment of smug victory at the sight of his eyes going very wide, before they narrowed in anger. 

Evidently, ‘no’ was not something the man heard a lot. 

Too bloody bad for him, Honor thought as she jumped out of the bed, her movements graceful and light despite her injuries. Doctor Chakwas was horrified. “Honor, please! Your wounds may be closed but they are in no way completely healed. Moving like that could tear them.” 

Acknowledging the healer with a soft apology, Honor turned back to the Commander, who was watching her in stony silence. He was still leaning against the wall, in practically the same position he had been throughout her story, his arms were still crossed over his chest, and he was telling her what he was planning to do with her. As if she had no say so in her future. 

Infuriated at his calm demeanor, she marched up to him and poked him in the chest. “You have no bloody right to dictate what I do with my life!” 

“Listen, Miss Cousland,” He said neutrally, his eyes burning with temper. She had grasped onto that first sign of temper, glad to see him lose some of that icy demeanor. She wanted him to crack, to fall apart and rage. She wanted a fight. “You’re on my ship. Healed my doctor. You’ll follow my rules. ”

The doctor in question sat down heavily in her seat, apparently equal parts amused and disgusted by their argument, by Honor’s complete lack of concern for her injuries. “Commander, I think it might be best if—“

“To the bloody void with your rules.”

Will gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. He was determined to stay calm, to not break. She was itching for a fight, he could see that much and there was no way he’d give her what she wanted. “Miss Cousland, unfortunately, we are not equipped to provide the type of care you need on this ship.” 

Honor wanted to weep. She needed him to fight back. Needed him to make her forget this awful, twisting pain. “What kind of care is that?” Her voice shook. She hated that. Hated herself for showing any weakness. 

“I’m not sure.” He said, almost apologetic, “But I do know you’ll get exactly what you need to heal where we are taking you.” 

“You don’t believe me.” She realized, taking a step back. She expected some disbelief; she was in a world covered in gleaming metal, she knew that they wouldn’t just accept her story. She wouldn’t respect him if he did. But faced with such complete rejection stung. “You really don’t believe me.”

It was more of a statement than a question, and since she seemed like a woman who would prefer blunt honesty over a polite lie, he turned from her, but not before quietly saying, “I believe that you believe.” 

Ire spiking at his blunt dismissal, Honor clenched her fists, wishing she could hit him again. Blacken his other eye. “What does that mean? Why don’t you believe me?” She hated the calm tones, the placating gestures, the kind words. They grated, burned, like rubbing salt on a wound. She’d prefer his anger, his disdain, anything but this dispassionate, polite mask.

The commander tensed, shoulders stiffening as he turned to face her. “Everything. I’ve seen some things, crazy, impossible things, but your story… let’s just say it’d make a better movie than a reality.”

“A what?”

He continued on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “So, either you’re one of the best damn operators I have ever seen, or you’re…” he paused, searching for the right word.

“Insane?” She supplied bitterly.

“Sick.” He amended, grimacing when she sucked in a breath.

“Sick? Bloody hell.” Shaking, now in anger, in fear, she regarded the man in front of her with barely veiled disdain. “Very well, commander. If that’s what you want to believe—“

“It’s not what I want to believe—“

“Then,” she persisted, eyes flashing with warning, “I shall thank you for saving my life, and ask that you allow Cheese and I to leave. Now.” She added forcefully. 

“Listen, Miss Cousland,” He gritted out. “I don’t know where you get off on making demands like you’re the goddamn Queen of England, but—“

“I know exactly where I’d like to ‘get-off’. Somewhere that is as far away from you as bloody humanly possible.” 

Chakwas sat down heavily in her seat, apparently equal parts amused and disgusted by their argument, by Honor’s complete lack of concern for her injuries. Temper flared, mixing in with that healer concern when she was interrupted yet again. She was going to bloody kill the both of them. “Commander, I think it might be best if—“

“It’s not that easy.” He gritted out, as if Chakwas hadn’t spoken. As if she weren’t even in the room, which, judging by the way the two were glowering at each other, she figured they had conveniently forgotten she was in fact, still in the room. 

Honor scoffed, mimicking his pose. She couldn’t know how ridiculous she looked, barely coming up to his shoulder, swimming in the borrowed sweats. Though, there was nothing ridiculous about the steady stream of inventive curses emitting from her mouth. “It is that damned easy. All you have to do is open the bloody door and wave goodbye. Couldn’t be any easier. Unless you need me to draw you a diagram? Perhaps some pictures to make it more understandable?”

Will closed his eyes, counted to ten. While that had always worked when he had dealt with the prospect of really losing his temper in the past, all it did for him now was remind him of what comes after six. “Shit.”

“Agreed.” Doctor Chakwas said, still watching the pair with avid interest. “Might I add that though Honor may not be a voluntary guest on our ship, she is still a guest and… I’m just going to stay out of it,” she decided after a few beats of furious silence. “Should just give you both some gloves and let you fight it out?”

“The point is,” Will continued pointedly, gesturing to both Honor and Cheese, who had taken advantage of his mistress’ departure from the bed to sprawl across it. “I can’t just open the door. I won’t just open the door. You’re sick, Honor. You need help. I want to help.” 

“Fuck your help.” Was her sweet reply. 

Will managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Barely. To hear such vulgar language spat out in that prim and proper tone was shocking. Infuriating. He was struggling to remember how the argument had started, struggling to gain control of the situation once more. When he couldn't, he clenched his fists. Frustrated, at her, at himself, he fought to keep control of his temper. “Miss Cousland, if you’d just let me explain—“

“Commander, please don’t make me tell you where you can shove that explanation.”

He didn’t sneer, but he came close. “Now, now, princess. That’s not really helping your situation right now.”

Honor laughed, the sound ringing empty through the room. “I don’t see anything that could actually help my situation, Commander.” 

A deep breath did nothing to dispel the temper burning through him, but it did give him a moment to think. To collect his thoughts and figure out just what the hell he was doing here. “I’m not doing this to spite you, Miss Cousland, nor am I doing this as a punishment. I’m—“

“Lording over me and making decisions that you have not bloody right making for me.” She finished. “Maybe that’s it,” she nodded, her pretty face twisting into ugly smile. “You like being the one in charge—“ 

Will felt his control snap. Literally felt the pressure release as he gripped Honor’s arms and snarled into her face. “Let’s get a couple of things straight. You are obviously in no shape to make it on your own, and I hate that I have to do this for you. But goddamnit, I’m going to help you. I’m going to make sure you get the best goddamn care you can. And you are not going to make me feel like some sort of degenerate pervert for wanting to help you.”

Honor flushed with shame. She may not be able to claim to know him or to understand him, but she knew enough about him to know to insult him in such a manner was insulting to the both of them, and she didn’t just see anger on his face, she saw hurt. “I.. apologize. I didn’t mean to… infer that.” The small worm of guilt writhed in her stomach when he just looked at her. 

“Sure you didn’t, princess.” His tone practically dripped with sarcasm. 

She bristled, crushed that little worm without any mercy. “I am not a princess.” The words were short, hard, as if she had to force them out from her clenched jaw. “If you are to insult me, use my correct title. “

“Sorry, I didn’t think huge pain in my ass was appropriate for a lady such as yourself. But if—“ 

“Commander,” Chakwas voice rang out through the room, interrupting him. He didn’t know if he should be thankful or not. Probably should be. He was in over his head at the moment. “Lieutenant Vega and Garrus are waiting for orders regarding the items you picked up on Valence. They are down in the Shuttle Bay now.” 

Honor stalked to the other side of the room before he could respond. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then down to grip his neck. This wasn't easy for anyone. He knew that. Knew that this was as difficult for Honor as it was for him. And,God knows he didn't want to make this call. Hated the fact that he had to leave Honor somewhere strange and unfamiliar to her, but he was going to. Because he wanted to make,sure she got the best help there is in the galaxy. 

Sterling himself once more, Will thanked the doctor before touching Honor’s shoulder. She didn’t jump, didn’t move, just watched him with steady green eyes. “It’s—I’ll be back. And we will finish this discussion.” He said gently, his hand still on her shoulder. Something moved in her eyes, some hint of emotion that was gone as soon as it had appeared. 

She glanced pointedly at his hand, before stepping away. He dropped his hand, clenched a fist as she raised her chin, her cool mask back on. “Why bother? You seen to have made your decision, Commander.” The edge in her voice had all concern for her melting away. Temper flaring once again, he managed to contain his snarl before stalking out of the room. 

Goddamn women. Can’t live with them, would love to live without them. 

“EDI, tell Vega and Garrus to stay put. I want the Shuttle Bay and the Engineering level clear. They have five minutes to finish up what they are working on and then I want them out.”

“Yes, Commander.” Will sighed as he leaned up against the wall, waiting for his crew to clear the bottom levels. Why can’t everyone be as agreeable as EDI? His life would be so much easier. 

Boring, maybe. But easier. 

“EDI?” Will called out as the last of the crew got off the elevator. 

“Yes, Commander?” 

“Don’t ever change.” 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you hungry?"

The question, so mundane, asked so kindly, made Honor stop in her tracks. She had been pacing back and forth in the small metal room the commander had left her in. She had been going slowly and painfully insane waiting. What she was waiting for, she didn’t know. 

Well, Cousland, what do you know? She asked herself as she paced. She knew she wasn’t in Ferelden anymore, that much was obvious, but after speaking -- yelling, she corrected herself -- with the commander, she couldn't even be sure she was still in Thedas. The thought terrified her; had she fallen into some sort of fade rift? Did she open up some portal when she killed the Archdemon? So many questions. Not enough answers. A soft cough brought her out of her reverie, and she realized that the healer had been waiting patiently as she had struggled for an answer. 

"No.” As soon as the words left her mouth though, her stomach grumbled, loud enough for all the occupants in the room to hear. Ridiculously embarrassed, Honor crossed her arms over her stomach and met the gaze of the grinning woman. 

"Are you sure?" 

Another loud grumble. "Yes." Cheese woofed softly and nudged her with his nose. The dog looked up at her, an almost human look of skepticism on his face. "I'm fine." She repeated, defiantly, frowning down at him. Damn dog. Too perceptive for his own bloody good. 

When the other two occupants in the room just looked at her, she threw her hands up in the air, wincing at the slice of pain the movement brought. "Fine. Fine. Yes, I'm hungry. Positively famished. May I please have something to eat? Happy?" She directed the last question to Cheese, who barked happily at her. "Beast."

The healer didn't comment, on her stubborn denial or her conversation with her dog, just spoke aloud, "EDI, could you have someone bring some food in for our guest," Honor sniffed at that. Guest? More like prisoner. "And perhaps an extra bowl for the dog?"  
"Yes, Doctor Chakwas. I believe that mid-rations is still going on. Also, Dr. Hansen has responded to your inquiries. I have forwarded everything to your console."

"Thank you, EDI."

"You're welcome, Doctor Chakwas." 

"Bloody hell." Honor whispered as her knees went weak. She searched the ceiling, frantically hoping, wishing there was some sort of... hole or trapdoor with a woman's head sticking out of it, or some sort of mechanism that could explain such a calm, melodic voice coming from an inanimate object.

Her feverish study yielded no results, and had the added effect of making her feel a bit lightheaded. "The ceiling... speaks? Bloody hell," she repeated as she slowly sank down. Demon? No. Demons usually don't sound so pleasant. Maybe it’s a nice demon? Or maybe their home is magical. Or maybe, I've just lost my bloody mind, Honor thought wildly. Maybe the commander was right. Maybe she is crazy. "Where in the void am I?"

Alarmed, Chakwas rushed over, eyes already searching for injury; bruises and wounds that she may have missed. Pupils dilated, ashen face. Shock, her mind automatically diagnosed. "Are you alright?" When the young woman just continued to stare up at the ceiling, she hunched down, gently grabbing her shoulders. "Honor. What is it? Light-headed? Dizzy? Are you feeling any pain?" 

"No. No, pain. Just... are you sure I'm not dead?" That could explain so much. This strange, gleaming room. The faceless voices that keep ringing out. Commander William Shepard. He'd be one of the stranger aspects of her afterlife. Confusing, confounding, and infuriating, yes; but Maker, he was intruiging-- No. Do not go there, Cousland. 

"You.... you think you're dead?" Chakwas asked, her voice quivering. While it was not a funny question, and it had been asked in complete seriousness, Chakwas couldn't help the chuckle, or the full laugh that followed. Next thing she knew, she was taking a step back to get a dip of water. But she tripped and landed quite hard on her rear. The suddenness of her fall had her pausing,i,her laughter, before she lost it once more and buried her face in her hands. 

Cheese began to bark, his deep barks punctuating the hysterical pitched laughter of the healer. Caught between being insulted and sheepishness at her admittedly stupid question, Honor just watched as the poised, controlled woman laughed until tears streaked down her face. 

Heaving in air, clutching her sides as they protested the strain, Chakwas managed to pull the shreds of her dignity and control together and started counting to one hundred, effectively calming herself down. "I'm good. I'm calm. I'm good."

"Yes, you do seem quite calm." Honor snapped, peevish. She had not survived a bloody blight and falling through hell-- dying, maybe-- landing in some strange, awful place just to get laughed at by the resident healer. Kind as she may have seemed. Probably the nicest anyone has been to her in a while. It still irked her to be laughed at. "Positively stoic, you are."

"I'm--I'm so sorry, my dear." A snort slipped out. "I'm not usually so-- I'm sorry."

"Doctor Chakwas!"

The startled cry had both women jerking, the rush of movement coming from the doorway had Honor scrambling back in defense. Cheese, stalwart guard dog that he is, jumped up and down, barking joyously. Bloody dog was trying to lick the face of the newcomer, despite her curses and slinking around the happy animal, avoiding him as if he had the plague.

 

"Oh, Christ. It's you again. Damned, mangy dog. Christ. Begone with you demon." Inching around Cheese, shoving him away from her with a hand to the face, the new woman glared at Honor before reaching down to the healer. "What did she do? Did she hurt you? Should I get Will?"

Honor just stared. The woman was tall, taller than any woman she'd ever seen. Hair the color of rich bark swung down to her chin. She wasn't pretty, not in the literal sense. Angular, sharp features, eyes that tilted slightly up at the corners, eyes a hazy, smoky green. Familiar eyes. "Should I restrain her?"

She felt the sliver of insult at the woman's assumptions, at her thinly veiled disgust; but it was those eyes that had her frozen. Eyes that had before been warm and concerned while talking to the healer, cooled as she turned to Honor. They were distant. Familiar. Distrustful.

Mean. 

"No, no. No," Chakwas repeated sharply when Ten moved towards Honor, her hands clenching into fists at her side. "Lieutenant Commander Shepard. What is it that you are doing in my office? It can't be that you've finally decided it’s time for a physical. You've been ignoring my summons for the past year." That had Ten stopping in her tracks. Not before she saw the other woman tense in warning. She didn't look afraid though, she looked... wary. Fragile. 

"Well, Lieutenant Commander?" 

Shoulders hunched at Chakwas stern tone and full use of her rank -- not unlike how her mother used to call out her entire name when she got in trouble -- and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I was bringing the food." She said, hating how lame and defensive it sounded, even to her own ears. 

Chakwas arched a slim, grey eyebrow. "You couldn't possibly mean the tray of food you tossed carelessly onto the cot when you came in, could you?"

"Got it in one, doc." Shit, Ten thought to herself as Chakwas stalked over to the tray, her movements jerky with anger. Grasping the lid, she slid another glare at Ten as if she were daring the food to be all over the place. Shitshitshit. So she may have given almost less than a shit about the food, even less than that about feeding little Red, but still the look that Chakwas sent her when she lifted the lid was enough for her to make a small sliver of guilt worm its way up her stomach. 

"Hell." Ten muttered darkly. The disarray of the slightly over-cooked beef and runny carrots, she knew that the doc was probably most likely going to chew her out. Because God forbid their damned 'guest' eats food that's a little messy. "It's still edible." She said defensively when Chakwas looked at the food, her head shaking. "Unless, of course, the royal highness doesn't think she can choke down such-- Ow!"

 

Ten took a step back when Chakwas brushed past her, the sharp jab the other woman delivered to her side causing her to hiss in a breath. "Jesus, doc. That hurt." She grumbled, rubbing her side, pouting a bit when the woman responded with a hissed, good. . The woman had fingers like daggers. 

"I'm sorry," Honor said, sounding not sorry at all, after she finally found her voice. Standing up, she fought the wave of dizziness, realizing very quickly that the woman in front of her would pounce on any sign of weakness. Be it because she was cruel, or perhaps just scared, Honor couldn’t tell and really couldn’t care. “But who exactly are you?”

She sounded like a princess, all prim and proper. The picture of manners and etiquette. Hell. She even looked like some fairy-tale Princess Delicate, elfin features; she barely came up to Ten's chin. She looked like she could be knocked over with a feather, and not just because she had been injured, or almost dead. 

No way could she have taken down Will. Not unless he let her.

Ten huffed in a breath, disgusted with her brother for being a sap, angry that Red was still here, still a problem. And still waiting for an answer, she realized with an embarrassed jolt. She bowed low, mockingly to cover her embarrassment, "Lieutenant Commander October Shepard, at your service." The sarcasm was not lost on Honor, nor was her slight twitch when Cheese sniffed her shoes, then panted happily up at her.

"Shepard...are you-"

"Sister of Commander John William Shepard? Acting Executive Officer of the SSV Normandy? Superior Shuttle pilot and savior of your unconscious ass? Yep, that'd be me."

Honor was struggling to keep up. The woman talked fast, her words a rapid fire volley, caustic and sharp. Unsure as to what a shuttle pilot was and what in the world an executive officer was -- though she was assuming it was a military rank of some sort, since they were in some sort of military compound. Still. What in the void was this woman on about? She opened her mouth, closed it again. Opened it up again. Unable to sort through the torrent of thoughts and confusion to form a coherent, sensible response, she settled with, "Alright." 

The Lieutenant Commander straightened, pushed herself away from the counter so Chakwas could get by. The doctor opened and closed the cabinets, muttering darkly under her breath as she gathered supplies to change Honor's dressings. 

Honor acknowledge the healer's silent command, and pulled herself up onto a cot. She never looked away though, never breaking that steady gaze. "If you were the one who rescued us, I must thank you---" 

"Save it."

"I beg your pardon?" 

"I don't need or want your thanks."

Honor showed no sign of discomfort as the doctor lifted up the t-shirt to show the newly healed scar on her side. Tiny little black stitches knitted her flesh back together where the cuts had been the deepest. Ten hid a wince, because ouch. Stretching from just below her left breast, it wrapped around her side to curl over her flat stomach. Ten brushed a self-conscious hand over her not so flat stomach. “Is that right?” Honor asked as Chakwas spread a healing salve over her side.

Ten leaned up against the cabinets. “Sure is.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Reasons.” The amount of disdain and attitude in that one word was enough to have Honor’s temper flaring.

"Enlighten me." Sick of being treated like some sort of traitor, or prisoner, tired of this woman's barely concealed dislike and underhanded comments, she lifted her head to meet her gaze head-on. 

“Ten.” Chakwas warned. She threw the woman a sharp look, daring her to continue. 

“No, please, I’d like to hear what she has to say.” Honor pulled her shirt back down when the healer took a step back. 

Cheese, obvlivous to the tension in the room sniffed at Ten’s feet. Remembering all too well her first meeting with the dog, Ten edged away from him. “Get away from me before I throw you out the damned airlock.”

Honor shot to her feet, ignoring the sharp jab of pain, and brought herself to her full height. Though she may be lacking in inches, the other woman towered over her-- damn her to the Void-- but Honor has long been used to her small size, and bullies who try to use it to their advantage. "You will not touch him." 

Ten just laughed. "Is that right, Red? You going to stop me?" she drawled looking down her nose, clearly pleased by her height advantage. As if that'd help her, Honor thought savagely, the heavy thrum of an ensuing fight pounding in her blood. 

"I'm sure a woman of your-- stature," Honor sneered the word, as if it were something distasteful and was rewarded with a muted glare, "would be used to throwing her weight around. I can assure you though, no matter how intimidating you believe you are... I've. Seen. Worse." 

Ten flushed with anger. Knowing full and well that the doctor would probably kill her if she hit her patient, not to mention her brother would lose his shot of she so blatantly broke protocol, she had to resign herself to merely fantasizing about wrapping her hands around that small, pretty neck of hers. Ten ignored the thinly veiled challenge, and though it pained her to do so gave Honor a tight lipped smile and turned to walk out the door. "Enjoy your dinner. Doc." She nodded at the glowering healer, fighting against the urge to hunch her shoulders. Man, she thought to herself as the doors shut behind her, I'm going to get my ass reamed for that one. 

The silence that followed Ten's departure was heavy, the inhabitants of the room in varying degrees of shock and anger. Except Cheese who had decided after a few moments of being ignored, to take a nap. He was blissfully unaware, snoring on one of the beds, twitching every so often. Dreaming doggy dreams, Honor supposed. Must be nice. 

Did she blame October? Not for the distrust, no. Honor is a stranger, is an unknown. She knew there was going to be some suspicion, but the disgust, the disdain the woman had thrown in her face, as she sneered, her face twisting into a hateful mask, had infuriated her. But now? In the metal room with colorful lights blinking merrily, it made her feel... tired, she thought as she closed her eyes. So tired. 

Chakwas pressed a hand against her mouth, torn between the need to apologize and to march out the door and give that bloody woman an earful. "I'm sorry. So sorry. Honor. She's not--- she's been--- October is... She's not usually so...."  
"Awful? Rude?" She said wearily, opening her eyes when Chakwas grabbed her hand. There was no scorn on this woman’s face. No condemnation or hate. She was concerned. It made Honor want to weep. “I was awful and rude back. She deserved it.” 

"She did," Chakwas had to laugh. She loved October Shepard, deeply. The woman was a list soul, broken and angry. But maker, did she make it difficult to stand her sometimes. "Ten doesn’t mean to be rude, she’s just an abrasive person. She’s got this wall… she’s been through so much... Well, let's just put it this way." 

Still holding Honor's hand, she pulled her towards the bed and the tray of food Ten had carelessly thrown down. "The woman is contrary and prickly and one of the most fiercely loyal and protective people I know. She's seen a lot, and I'm not," she held up a hand, stopping Honor’s angry retort, "saying that to defend her actions. The woman can be a bloody menace, but that was her brother you attacked down there and," she once again spoke over Honor's heated curse, "you have to admit, your situation is a bit... delicate. You're an unknown to us, Honor. We have to be careful."

Bitterness warred with logic. Of course they'd be suspicious of her. She'd be suspicious of them if roles were reversed. It still hurt, some small part of her yearning for acceptance. For friends. For peace. 

It was the bigger, more practical part of her that shoved to the front of her mind. The part of her that had kept the tears and the rage and the hate and buried it so she could go on. So, that's what she did now. Pushed the weakness, pushed and prodded and shoved it into the little dark corner of her mind, to be left there and forgotten. 

"She hasn't had the easiest life." Chakwas told her gently. 

"A hard life is hardly an excuse to be such a bitch." She should know. Her life for the past few years has been one big, dark tragedy, and she wasn't a bitch. She may have her moments, true, but who doesn't?

"Honor," Chakwas laughed, "I'm not saying you have to like her. But if you are to stay on this ship for any matter of time, you're going to have to understand the people on it. That includes Ten."

Honor contemplated that. She knew the healer was right. Didn't she have to tell herself the same thing over and over again as she had collected her merry band of misfits? Maker, she had despised Morrigan at first. True, the woman had made it quite easy to hate her, but after Honor had actually taken the time to talk to her and get to know her-- despite her acerbic wit and the hint of darkness that always seemed to waver around her, she found herself liking the woman. 

Then there was Zevran. 

Honor had disliked Zevran almost as much as she had Howe, more because he tried to seduce her every chance he got than because he had tried to kill her. But his overly flirtatious nature had grown on her. All of her friends had. They had gone from annoying, distrustful bunch to a close-knit group of friends. They had become family. Maker, how she missed them.

Void and damnation, Honor rubbed her hands over her face. She was too bloody tired for this. "I'll try." She promised softly, to herself and the older woman. "I do have a question, my lady."

"Yes?"

"What is an airlock?"


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter/Filler Chapter. I'm working on the next one now. I had to re-write everything because it was crap. Crap crap crap. Crap, I say! I hope you all like this one! As always, I love the love, so please comment/like/etc So let me know what you think. Hugs and kisses for all of you!
> 
> Love,  
> Jetaime

\-----Shuttle Bay, Present Time-------

It turned out, they did need the fire extinguisher.

Not because anything blew up, though if you asked Vega who happened to be holding the offending item when it... was engulfed in fire, he'd argue the point quite vehemently. His point made even stronger by the smell of singed hair that followed him around and the suspicious lack of hair on the back of his hands.

When Will had lifted the leather flap, every occupant in the room held their breath waiting for explosions or poison gas, hell, with their luck, they'd find some new monster that wants to try to kill them. James was poised with the fire extinguisher at the ready, Garrus' talon ready to press the Shuttle Bay door at a moment’s notice. Shepard felt the adrenaline, the intensity wash over him as his nerves buzzed, as the world fell away in anticipation of action, his body primed and ready to react to anything. 

The surprising lack of explosion was welcome, so was the distinct lack of 'Let's Kill Shepard!'. He still moved carefully, cautiously, slowly dipping a hand in the bag, he felt metal and cloth, paper and... leaves?  
"The hell?" His hand brushed against some more metal, almost yelped when he felt a sharp edge. He traced a finger down the blade until he found the base. A quick check proved it was safe to touch, so he wrapped a tentative hand around the object and pulled out a sword. 

"What the --?" James watched wide eyed as Shepard held the gleaming blade up. The commander held the sword out, grunting under the weight. Wicked sharp and almost twice the length of his omni-blade, James could picture a knight carrying such a weapon. Like the ones in the stories his Abuela used to tell him. "How the fuck did that fit in there?" 

"Retractable?" Garrus asked. “I’ve never seen a blade that long before.” It was a testament to the severity of the situation when James didn’t comment, hell the marine was uncharacteristically quiet; not that Will blamed him. It’s not every day you open up a pack and pull out a goddamn sword.

It's not every day you go on a routine supplies drop and come back with a princess and warhound either. 

“It’s not retractable.” Will muttered, turning the blade in his hand. The hilt was carved, beautiful detailed, the blade long and wickedly sharp. Green filigree wove around the base of the blade; and when he brought it closer to his face he could see a small inscription engraved on the blade. “Cousland. Well, at least we know it’s hers.” 

"So, not only did Tink have those two knifes strapped to her back when we found her, but she was packing this big ass sword too? Who the hell is this chick?" 

Shrugging at James, Will stuck his hand back in the bag, rooting around till he was able to fit his hand around another object. It was another dagger. This one covered in red tracings that danced over the blade, glinting wickedly in the dim light of the Shuttle Bay. James whistled. “Another one? Damn. Maybe I should call her 'Nikita' or something?"

Garrus sighed. It was growing increasingly more difficult following James’ line of thinking. He kept throwing human crap into conversations. "What is a Nikita?" 

“A badass bitch.” James told him, his voice grim. 

“Vega. Over by me, Garrus, I don’t see us needing to space anything. Grab the extinguisher from Vega." He set the dagger down next to the sword. He picked up the bag, more like hefted it up. "Jesus, this thing still weighs a ton. What the hell does she have in here?" 

After handing the extinguisher to Garrus, James crouched down next to Will. "Why don't you just turn it over and dump whatever else is in there out?" James suggested as he picked up the dagger. Turning it over slowly in his hands, he traced over the red carvings. There was a stone that glowed when his finger grew close. Shepard had gone back to searching through the pack. James weighed his options. Worst case scenario, the thing exploded and they all died in a fiery blast. Best case scenario? This button caused all the Reaper’s to spontaneously combust, dying slowly and painfully in an equally fiery explosion. Inwardly shrugging, he tapped the slightly raised area. 

The resounding 'whoosh' as the entire thing was engulfed in flames, his hand included was outmatched only barely by his frantic yelp and Shepard and Garrus' surprised shouts. His hand was on fire, on freaking fire, and as he and Shepard jumped to his feet, the former slamming the knife out of his hand as Garrus let out a steady stream of foam, coating both him and Shepard in the cold substance. 

The dagger dropped to the ground with a clatter, the flames soon covered by a thick coat of foam. Their heavy breathing, his slightly panicked as he turned his hands over searching for burns, almost dizzy with relief when he noticed not only were his hands not gnarled, blackened stubs, but that they were fine. The hair had been burnt off, which was super weird, but his skin wasn't falling off in chunks, so that was a plus. But, Holy shit. "'Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit." 

"Holy shit." Shepard agreed as Garrus set the extinguisher down. Rising, he circled the still sizzling pile of suppressant foam. "What the hell did you do?" 

"I have no idea." James said, voice strangely muted. Eyes still locked on his hands, he added softly, “I pressed a button. Shouldn’t have pressed the button. Never doing that again.” 

Will stood, clapped a hand on the marine’s shoulder. Gave it a quick squeeze when he felt the slight tremble. “You should know better than to do that, Vega. Button pushing is my job.” His gaze was locked on the pile of sizzling goo. “Was it a bomb?” 

“I don’t think so. I’m not picking up anything on my scanner.” Garrus dropped the empty extinguisher to the ground. He cocked his head, studying the drawn marine, the soaked commander, and went to grab another fire extinguisher. “If I’d have known it was this easy to shut Vega up, I might have set him on fire sooner.” 

James gave him the middle finger.

“So glad that you’re feeling better, James.” Will said, drily as he whipped out his omni-tool. A few finger strokes later had the good doctor’s face peering at him. Her face may have been ten times smaller and hazy on the omni-tool’s screen, but the disapproval in her expression was as clear as if he were standing right in front of her. “Shit.” He muttered.

"Yes, Comander? Can I help you?" Her tone implying that she would like to help him very much, like with a smack to the face.

"I need to talk to Honor. Please." He added quickly when her eyes flared. 

"Why, do you wish to yell at her some more?" 

"She yelled back." Will reminded her, turning his back as if to block Chakwas from the too curious eyes of James and Garrus. He took a step away too for good measure. “Just as loud.” And twice as vicious, he added silently.  
She frowned at him. “Well, if it isn’t you yelling at the poor girl, then it’s your blasted sister coming in here and—“

Will groaned as he imagined quite clearly how that meeting must have gone. “Two questions, doc. Are they both still alive? And is there any permanent damage to the ship?” 

“No,” Chakwas answered, her lips twitching as she fought a smile. “But you need to have a serious talk with your sister. She’s a—“

“Menace. Pain in the ass. I know, doc. I’ll talk to her.” And won’t that be a fun conversation. He sighed, “Honor?” 

Her slight smile slid off her face as she once again ignored his request. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe you should give her a few hours to rest before you start on her again.” 

“She yelled back. She was just as much a part of the argument as I was.” 

"She just went through a very traumatic time in her and if you think for one moment--"

"Doctor," he interrupted in his commander voice. "I need to speak to Miss Cousland." 

The woman hesitated a moment before sighing. “Honor, dear. The commander needs to speak with you.” 

Dear? James mouthed to Will when he turned back to them. Will shrugged. It was obvious the good doctor had taken a liking to the diminutive non-guest. She was protective over most of her patients, yes, but Honor wasn’t a part of the crew. But the doc had worked her ass off to save the woman, so maybe she just didn’t like to see all that hard work go to waste.

Or maybe she sees the same thing you do, a voice whispered in his mind, that Honor isn’t crazy or insane or dangerous. No, he told the voice as Honor’s face filled the screen, she’s definitely dangerous. Though she didn’t look too dangerous at the moment. She looked terrified in fact. 

“Honor? What’s wrong?” He asked, dipping his head closer to the screen, the quick sliver of alarm intensified when she just kept staring at him. “Doc?” 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Honor, are you alright?” The healer asked her, the hand not engulfed in flames raising to grasp her arm. “Are you in pain?” 

Honor staggered back, dodging the woman’s outstretched hand. A mage. The woman was a mage. It made sense, she told herself as her back hit the wall, in a dim sort of way. A lot of healers were mages, weren't they? It just worried her, made her feel as if she were losing some part of her. The most important part. Her keen sense. Before, especially after spending so much time with Wynne and Morrigan, she had been able to sense... what? A stir, a brush of power, she really couldn't put her finger on it, but she had known always when someone was a mage. 

Had she lost it? Is it because her head was such a mess of twisting and turning and panic and fear? Maker, she shrank back, a movement that had a distant part of her fuming with disgust at herself, when the healer held out her arm, the orange glow casting a warm shadow on her face. 

Maker, the celling talks and flames engulf people’s arms and then they talk through the bloody flames and she was so bloody sick of everything being so foreign and terrifying. William’s voice poured through the flames, his concern evident. 

The thought of his sympathy made a part of her want to snarl. The bigger and more vocal part of her was touched, thankful even, for his concern. Hearing his voice, hearing him call for her, for the lady healer, she gathered the tatters of her control around her like a blanket, pulling herself back together through a sheer force of will. 

Honor took a step closer to the healer as she fought to keep her voice steady. "N-nothing. Nothing, I just was a bit... dizzy for a moment. I am fine." She forced herself to look at the healer’s arm, forced herself to step closer and peer down at William's face.

He was worried, she realized as she studied the orange glow. He was worried and it wasn't fire that encased the woman's warm, it was... she reached out a tentative finger, jumped back when her finger hit a hardened surface. "Andraste’s ass.” She muttered before acknowledging the commander. "You wished to speak to me?" She was proud that her voice didn't waver; her tone a polite and cool reminder of their earlier argument. 

Because, she told herself sternly, she was still furious about that. And about his blasted sister. He wasn’t getting away that easy. No matter how harshly she told herself that, how hard she raged and begged, she couldn’t bring herself to stay mad. Not really. Not when faced with such genuine concern. 

Blast him, anyways. 

He searched her face, eyes roaming over looking for something. Whether he found it or not, he stopped then and sighed. "We found your pack and--"

"My pack!" Elated, Honor watched as the screen slowly left the commander's grim face to show her pack, her glorious beat-up pack on the ground next to a pile of... "What is next to it?" She asked, peering closer into the glow. 

"Fire represent. We had a little mishap with one of your weapons. Which is why we are having this conversation at the moment. Why the hell do you have a dagger that sets itself on fire?" 

Her green eyes that had been wide with happiness, narrowed in confusion. She was still tense, he could practically see how stiff she was holding herself. She had shrank back, cringing away from Chakwas when the dooctor had turned the omni-tools screen towards her. 

She had been scared. 

Then she had squared those shoulders and raised her chin in what he was slowly realizing to be here defense mechanism. He respected the hell out her for it. "What do you mean, why do I have one? It is a weapon, is it not? I fight with it."

“It exploded. Sort of.” He amended. “It was set on fire somehow. Vega pressed a button and… well, there was fire.” 

"Fire... you pressed the rune?" 

"Vega pressed it," he affirmed. When she stayed silent, he added, "He’s alright." 

"Of course he's alright. Unless the man is a bumbling fool and accidently stabbed himself, there is no way he could have harmed himself" 

James growled as the insult hit. "Hey Tink, why don't you--"

"The thing was set on fire, Honor. He was holding it." Will shook his head at the Lieutenant as he began to curse in rapid fire Spanish and kicked at a clump of the fire suppressant. "He could have been seriously hurt!" 

Then, to the astonishment of the three men, she burst out laughing. Stunned, they watched as she hunched over, clutching her stomach as tears of mirth ran down her face. Gasping in air, face turning an alarming shade of red, they watched as the woman laughed her ass off. 

"What the f--?" James began hotly, only to be shushed by Garrus. Will moved away from the two men, realizing that the more James spoke the harder Honor laughed, an insult the marine would not let stay for long. As it was, he was already on his merry way to a good old fashioned pout.

'Honor." The woman laughed harder. "I don't know what's so damned funny-- Honor. Jesus. HONOR!" 

"I'm sorry." She gasped. "I'm sorry. Maker's balls. I can't breathe." 

"Good thing you're standing next to a doctor?" Chakwas said from off-screen. "Why don't you try taking nice, deep breaths, before you tear those stitches, hmm?"

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Oh, Maker. What was his face like? Did he scream?"

Will's lips twitched. James had made a noise, and while he was sure James would go to the grave arguing that he didn't scream, it was an unfortunate fact that all three of them had screamed. Loudly. 

"Maybe." He offered. Then, with the insane urge to hear her laugh again, to see that smile and that one dimple she had, he added, "We all might have."

She grinned. He blinked, realized that he hadn't imagined how beautiful her smile was, and couldn't help but grin back. "You're not making it easy for me to breathe, commander. The rune is enchanted, so the fire holds no danger to the one holding it, just those you decide to... attack, I suppose. It’s a bit hard to explain. You just have to press it again to turn the flames off--"

"We smothered the fire, it shouldn't be on." Should it? Will wondered turning back to the admittedly still sizzling pile of goo. "Shit."

Honor had to wrap her arms around herself, her ribs creaking under the strain. "If you didn't press the rune again, then it is not off." she told him. He looked so bewildered, so shocked. So confused. It was nice to not be the one overwhelmed. To be the one with all the answers this time.  
It wasn’t just that, she admitted to herself. When he had smiled at her...She had felt this little zip in her blood, and awareness began to shift as he had sent her that crooked, sheepish grin. 

"Honor, Garrus just emptied a full tank of fire suppressant on it. It’s not still on, is it? It can’t be. Could it?” He asked her. 

"Commander, it'd be a sorry rune if a bit of... fire stuff was able to douse the flames. It's magic, it isn't going to stop until you press it." She told him. "Do you need me to assist you with it?"  
He snorted, she could hear mumbling in the background. "I think I can handle it." He said. Then his face disappeared. She stared at the empty flames for a moment as if she could will the commander back if she waited long enough. 

"You really have a dagger that sets itself on fire?" The flames extinguished with a soft click as she lowered her arm to her side. "Truly?"

Honor nodded. "I do. I have others too. Some that are encased in lightning, other's in ice. I even have one that is cursed."

The healer made a strangled noise before her arm rose. Honor barely flinched when the orange glow encased her arm once again. "What are you doing?" Honor asked, curious. The older woman's face had gone an alarming shade of red. 

"Just giving the commander a heads up. One can never be too careful around magical objects that suddenly sprout fire and ice and lighting."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

“Can you handle it?” Garrus asked him wearily. After talking with Honor, Will had gone to grab a couple of extra fire extinguishers, handing one to Garrus and the other to James. The man had stopped shaking, the sheer terror that had leached all the color from his face fading into a good old fashioned snit. Cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and anger, James just stood next to Garrus, silently fuming as they both aimed the nozzles at the offending object. 

Will glared at his friend, insulted. “Seriously?”

The turian shrugged. “Nothing about this situation is normal –even our kind of normal. Maybe you should bring Honor down here.” 

Offended and admittedly nervous, Will ignored Garrus’ comment, and nudged a bit of the pile with his boot. “Just… be ready.”

“I don’t even know what to be ready for anymore.” James said. “Man, today has royally sucked.” 

With you on that one, Vega, Will thought as he took a deep breath and crouched next to the foam. He clenched and unclenched his fists before scraping a layer away from the dagger. The foam wasn’t too hot, he realized, it definitely wasn’t cold like it was supposed to be, but considering it was currently covering a magic knife straight out of a fairytale that was on fire, it was pretty comfortable. 

A final swipe of his hands uncovered the blade. Fire immediately jumped up, encasing the entire weapon. Will looked up at Garrus and James. “Well, here it goes.” He gritted his teeth in defense, his body automatically tensing against the pain that never came as he gripped the blade in his hand. 

“Whoa.” James whispered as Will lifted his arm, flames flickering around his fist. “That’s… pretty badass. What?” He asked, defensively when Garrus snorted. “It looks a lot cooler when it’s not all of a sudden blowing up in your hand.” 

It didn’t hurt. His entire hand was engulfed in flames; fire dancing wickedly against his skin, and it wasn’t burning him. Sure, it was almost uncomfortable, the threat of heat that wrapped around him, and he was pretty sure he lost all the hair on his hand and wrist. But it didn’t hurt. 

“How is this possible?” Garrus asked.

“I don’t… know.” Will admitted. He pressed the rune as Honor instructed and almost instantly the flames died. Garrus lowered the extinguisher to the floor. He held out his hand to Shepard, who handed over the blade after hesitating for a moment. 

“Don’t press the button.” James muttered. 

Turning it over and over in his hand, talons tracing the red lines swirling over the steel, his touch ghosted over the button. Will took the blade from him, tucked back into the pack. “God, Garrus, I just don’t know.” 

James grunted. “One thing is for sure, Tink has a whole lot of explaining to do.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers,
> 
> I have re-written this chapter about seven times now. Which may or may not be an exaggeration, but I digress. The first chapter I had written was going in a different direction than I wanted. As in, the entire thing was crap. So, after a few re-writes and a lot of pulling my hair out , this is the finished product. Please let me know what you think! Do you like it? Hate it? Are confused? Does my spelling suck? My jokes not funny? 
> 
> Also, I re-wrote Kaidan's 'I'm alive!' message. I'm sorry (ish) if it bothers you. But I feel with the extra history him and Ten have, the one he sent in game didn't fit. 
> 
> I love hearing from you guys, love knowing that you enjoyed reading what I (mostly) enjoyed writing. I had a friend read over this before I posted it, but as she is in no way shape or form a gamer, she had no idea what the hell was going on. So, if any of you lovely little noodles want to assist me with the whole 'making sure it isn't crap before I post it' job, let me know! 
> 
> I have a few pages of the next chapter written, pages that I actually like and approve of, so hopefully the next chapter will be out quicker than this one. She says, optimistically. 
> 
> Love,  
> Jetaime

Ten stared down at the datapad in front of her. Heart beating fast, hands shaking and damp, she traced a lone finger over the message. Her short, blunt nail lightly scratched over the words on the screen. She raised her other hand, touching her fingers to her lips. 

A quick look ensured that Joker was still focused on running his daily diagnostics check on the Normandy’s systems. Eyes locked on the screen in front of him, his mouth moving every so often, lips forming curses and half-muttered prayers of patience as he went through the checklist. Leaving the cockpit to find some privacy was out of the question. 

Chakwas had talked to Will already, no doubt complaining about her ‘actions’ earlier. She wasn’t hiding technically. Technically, she was ensuring that she stayed as far away as possible from both Will and the doc. Ten was in no shape to listen to a lecture about professionalism and manners. 

Ten certainly didn’t want to sit and get her ass chewed out when all she could think about was the short message she got from Kaidan not a few minutes ago. Bending her head down, curling around the datapad as if to shield it from Joker, she re-read the message.

> _  
> October,_
> 
> _Thanks to a combination of advanced medical technology and sheer dumb luck, I managed to survive the attack on Mars. Implants got a little rattled, but the doctor said that there isn't any permanent damage. She also said that I can have visitors now. If you have some time, you should stop by. I... I'd like the chance to apologize to you. To make things right._
> 
> _I miss you,_
> 
> _Kaidan_
> 
> __

The words seem to jump off the page, the illuminated writing a beacon, shining brightly, and breaking through the blank mist of confusion and fear a few paragraphs of text brought. The message was short, sweet, and completely and utterly unexpected. It’s not that she didn’t think that Kaidan would at some point reach out to her. They had left things so… awful.

Messy, yes. Crappy, yes. But, despite that she knew he was bound to try to talk to her again. She just didn’t think it’d be this soon after the whole him almost dying on Mars thing. 

No matter how much she tried, how many times she told herself over and over again that he would be alright, that is he is alive, all she could think about was Kaidan’s lifeless body, his bloodied face. Her brother’s shouts, Kaidan’s agonized cries pouring over their comm channel as the AI slammed him against the shuttle, again and again. 

There were sounds of bones cracking. Metal slamming against metal. Will shouting, the helpless rage apparent through the static. James cursing. Liara crying out. Her ragged breathing. Frozen. Unmoving. 

Ten hated the fact that she just sat there, frozen as the man she loved was almost beaten to death. Hand half way raised to wipe some of the blood off her face that was dripping from a cut on her forehead, courtesy of her not so smart idea to ram the Cerberus shuttle with her own. 

James had enjoyed it though. He had turned to her, excitement and a little blood lust blowing his pupils wide. “You are one crazy ass chica. Goddamn that was great!” He whooped loudly, clapping her on the shoulder. “Man, what a freaking ride! Are all your rides that fun?” He had the leer down pat. Waggling his eyebrows at her when she flicked him off, he began to unbuckle the multitude of straps they had managed to yank on before her impromptu bumper shuttles. 

“Yeah, I thought so.” He cackled when she glared at him, brushing her hair back that had fallen from her small bun. She cursed when her fingers brushed against the bump on her forehead. “You don’t have to say anything, Lola. I pegged you for a closet freak when I first met you.” 

Ignoring him, she began undoing her own restraints, mentally berating herself as the cacophony of aches and pains each movement brought. She dimly heard a few thuds from outside the shuttle, figured it was the team going through the heap of burning metal she had made out of the other shuttle. She knew replying to him would just poke the bear. He was insufferable enough as it is, she didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. 

But the devil inside her had her turning to him, smirking, fluttering her eyelashes at the marine. “Vega, my rides usually end up with more things on fire and a lot more pain.” 

Dark eyes lit with humor and just a little interest, he laughed. “That’s my girl.”

And then screaming had started. 

James had dove for the shuttle door the second the screaming had started, cursing violently the door refused to open. It must have jammed when they had rammed the other shuttle. He slammed his shoulder into the stuck door. Over and over. The door groaned, slid open an inch as the barrier field warmed up, blocking the cockpit from the atmosphere on the planet. One more hit and the door burst open, the sound of metal grinding on metal piercing through the screams. He jumped down as a gunshot rang out. And then there was silence. 

Complete and utterly devastating silence.

Silence that burned and scraped her raw as she fumbled with a breathing mask and a pressurized suit so she could go outside and help. Silence that writhed and danced with uncertainty as she finally yanked a suit on, diving for the open door, ignoring the dangers of going out in the arid atmosphere of Mars without properly securing the seals on the suit. Silence that dropped her to her knees when she saw Will carrying Kaidan over to the Normandy that flew in behind them. 

A slight jerk of movement brought her out of her memories. Joker was fumbling with the controls, muttering darkly under his breath about space crap. Will’s irritated voice permeated through the cockpit, his ire apparent even through the static of comms. Joker’s equally irritated voice responded that everything is in the clear. 

“Stupid, shitty space crap.” He punched down a button when Will signed off. Eyebrows scrunched over his eyes as he navigated through the debris field. He hissed in displeasure when he had to maneuver away from a rather large chunk of compacted trash. “Who the hell empties their trash compactor in the middle of the goddamn travel route? Amateurs and assholes, that’s who. Are you going to tell me why you’re sitting in the cockpit with a stink look on your face? Or are you just going to sit there and stew?”

“Stew.” She muttered, shoving out of her seat to pace back and forth in the small room of the cockpit. Bending down, she scooped up her datapad, tucked it into the large pocket on the leg of her uniform pants. Though the room was small, and didn’t allow for enough space to sufficiently pace back and forth, it was the safest place for her to be at the moment. Ten figured Chakwas and or Will would be looking for her and the first place they’d look would be in the Shuttle Bay. 

They would definitely check here next, but Ten figured she has at least ten more minutes before she needed to find another hiding spot. Which gave her at least nine minutes to figure out what to do about Kaidan. 

“I hate it when you stew. Why can’t you be a normal woman and blab about your problems to everyone?” Joker asked, watching his friend move around the room, stretching as the strain of sitting in the same position for a few hours made itself known. 

“Why do you care?” 

“Don’t be a dumbass, Ten.” She sent him a side-long glare, but kept pacing. He sighed at her silence, readjusted the bill of his cap. “You look upset.” He said in lieu of an explanation. “Not mad, because let’s be honest, ninety percent of the time you’re mad, so I stopped caring about that about five years ago.”

“Shut up.” She said, without any heat. Joker waited, giving his friend a less than patient look. Ten stayed stubbornly silent, until he raised an eyebrow and muttered something about pinging the doctor or Will. She hissed angrily at him. “Fine. Fine. I got into a fight with the newest resident terrorist. Her dog has some sort of weird attachment to me. Chakwas is pissed at me. Which means Will is probably going to be pissed at me. And… Kaidan messaged me.. He said… He’s awake. I mean, I’m sure you knew that already. But, yeah. He, uh, sent me a message and now I don’t know what to do.”

Joker snorted, switching the controls to auto-pilot. “I’m going to ignore the first part of that. Because you already know you screwed up. I’m just going to tell you that that was a sucky thing to do. A sucky, sucky thing. And I’ll leave it at that." Bracing both hands on the console in front of him, he stretched again, wincing when a few of the bones in his hand creaked in warning. “As for the Kaidan thing… It’s not a new concept, Ten. Someone sends you a message, you read it, then you hit ‘reply’, tell him you want to have his babies, and send it. Nothing new there.”

Ten flushed, definitely not thinking about how nice it would to actually get to the whole process of making babies with Kaidan. “Sucky isn’t a word. And God, Joker. That is… so… none of… not… why would you say that?” To think that she had almost gotten to that point with Kaidan and that she very well may have ruined her only chance with Kaidan, , _burned_. \

Joker held up a finger. “I know it’s not a word. I had to create a word just to describe the level of sucky you hit. And, seriously? You guys were so obvious even I noticed." He sighed, turning from the controls to face Ten. "All I know is, we don’t have much time for bullshit anymore. So stop being such a girl and respond to him.”

Ten wished it was that easy. Felt the yearning with every fiber of her being. To just have that effortless understanding and feelings. Knowing exactly what to say to him, knowing how to apologize properly. It was one thing feeling sorry. And God, was she sorry. Putting her feelings into actual words has never been a strong suit of hers, but to make sure that they conveyed how she actually felt. Pretty words and elegant prose are not her thing. 

“I don’t know what to say to him.” Ten said, finally after the silence fell over them, giving him a miserable look.

“He probably felt the same way. Trust me, the man probably took hours to write out a few sentences full of crap that he doesn’t really want to say but says anyway. God, you guys are the worst. Just kiss and make up already." Ten wished it was that easy. She had no idea how to even begin to fix things with Kaidan. She didn’t really know if he even wanted to. What if he wanted to talk so he could just apologize, then tell her he met this great girl who is five foot five of kindness and curves and blonde hair. ‘Sorry, October, but I’ve met a woman who doesn’t argue with me every five minutes and who can actually have a normal conversation with people. Oh, did I mention she was missing all the baggage and bad attitude that you can’t seem to get rid of?’ 

Ten knew Kaidan could never be that cruel, not really. He’s too honorable and good to treat her that way. She couldn’t really say the same, because when push had come to shove, arguing with him and leaving him with things angry and raw had been easier than telling him the truth. God, they had wasted so much time because she couldn’t deal with her emotions and that hurt her more than anything he had said to her. 

Dejected, disgusted, she threw her hands up in the air, bringing them back down to rest on top of her head, puffed her cheeks out as she blew out a breath. “It is not that easy and you know it, Joker.”

Joker twisted in his seat so he could face his friend fully. “Ten, I know it isn’t. But that’s when you’re supposed to suck it up and do it anyways. ‘Cause that’s when you know it’s real.”

Ten blinked at him owlishly. Uneasy with how she was staring, and how much romantic crap he was saying he faced the controls once more. “Now, please leave. Before I start writing poetry and crying over how pretty the stars glitter at night or some crap like that.” 

 

Ten couldn’t help ruffling the scowling pilot’s hair. “Joker, don’t let anyone tell you differently. You’re the biggest softie there is.” Laughing at his caustic retort, she turned and ran smack dab into Doctor Chakwas. She bounced off the woman, who was surprisingly sturdy, considering Ten had a good thirty pounds on her. Shock made her slow, the doctor’s sudden appearance after the small life-changing moment she had when Kaidan reached out to her caused her to just stand there stupidly after she regained her balance.

“Shit.” She said when the woman’s hand shot out, latching on to Ten’s arm before she could run away.

“Excellent. Just who I was looking for.” The British woman smiled, gripping Ten’s arm painfully as she pulled her towards the elevators. “You and I have a lot to talk about, October Shepard.” 

\-------------------------------------------------

"So, exactly how much stuff do you have in here that could kill me?" Will asked Honor as he placed her bag on the table next to her bed. Cheese woofed sleepily at the sound, his eyes opening slightly. After a moment of inspection, he grunted and rolled onto his back. His paws curled up in the air, his tongue lolling out as he huffed once and settled back into sleep. 

"Pardon?"

William gave a pointed look down at the bag next to him.

Her bag. Maker, it was so strange to think that that small leather bag held all of her belongings. To remember how she had gone from having everything to having almost nothing had been a shock for her. And now, everything she has to her name can now fit inside of an enchanted knapsack. 

The bag where she kept weapons and armor stolen from bodies of the enemies they had slain, things they managed to find in locked chests and crates, food they had paid for and sometimes stolen. Then there were the things she held closest to her heart. Things like her family’s sword, her journal, the locket she had been given by her father the night before he was murdered. 

She felt his tension rise as her silence grew longer. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she finally answered with, “A lot.” 

Will sighed, tapping the dark leather with a finger. "Yeah, I was afraid of that. Alright. Here's the deal. You and I are going to go through your pack. I want you to explain every single item you have in here. I want to know what it is, what it does, if there are any secret buttons that set it on fire or make it explode or change people into frogs or anything like that.”

“A frog?” Her lips curved at the thought. “Is this from personal experience?” 

“Honor.” 

"As you wish, commander.” 

Slightly wary with how easy she had acquiesced, Will gestured to the middle of the room. Studying her through narrowed eyes as she walked by, he saw no sign of subterfuge, no indication that she was doing anything other than politely agreeing to his request. 

“EDI, Joker, I’m going to be… indisposed for a few hours. Make sure I’m not interrupted and forward any urgent messages to Ten.”

“Sure thing, commander. I'll just tell the Dealers we need to-"” The pilot began to make a sarcastic retort, his glee apparent in those few syllables before he was interrupted by an exceptionally calm EDI. “Understood, commander.” There was a brief rush of static, hissed complaints, quiet reprimands. Then Joker sighed, aggravated and exasperated. “Yeah, yeah. Anything you want, Commander.”

“Logging you out, Shepard.” EDI said, before Joker could dig himself a bigger hole.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a chair, dragginh it to the middle of the room, intending for her to sit. Instead, she dropped gracefully to the ground, her long legs folding neatly beneath her. Shrugging, he sat down in the empty seat and reaching over, grabbed the bag from where he left it on the bed. 

Will set the pack between them and began to open the buckles. “You really want to go through every single thing I have in there?" She asked, after he finished opening the bag. Will had to laugh at the put-out expression on her face. "That's going to take bloody forever." 

“Every item." He repeated firmly. "You have any more things that explode in here?” 

Honor gave him a sheepish look. “Perhaps.” 

He groaned, tipping back in his chair. He rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them back down slowly. “Wonderful.Well, shall we?”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers,
> 
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter! It might have some mistakes/typos/and so on and so forth, due to general human error, but nonetheless, let me know what you think, like if you love it, or hate it, or meh it. I love hearing from y'all!! 
> 
> Love,  
> Jetaime

Will used the back of his hand to wipe away the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. They had been sorting through her pack for well over two hours. The amount stuff that they had pulled out of the small, leather bag was disconcerting. He thought he had prepared himself for the impossible before coming in. 

Remembering all too well the shock and disbelief he felt earlier with their initial investigation, Will reminded himself to be ready. For what exactly, he wasn’t entirely sure. All he knows is that he was able to pull a two foot sword out of a bag that was definitely not two feet long. 

Still with every passing moment, each item he added to the already enormous pile of stuff they had pulled out of her pack, there was a distinct level of disbelief building up. He has seen some insane, impossible things. Hell, he himself is living proof that there are miracles in the world, but watching as this five foot nothing redhead pulled a two-handed hammer that was as big as he was out of a tiny little bag, he felt his grip on reality slip. 

Honor grunted, using all of her body weight to yank on the large handle, Will placed his hands below and above hers, adding his own considerable strength to heave the weapon fully out of the bag. They were both panting by the time they had gotten it out, Honor leaned over, resting her hands on her knees as she sucked in air. “Maker, that gets heavier every time I have to bloody lift it.”

Will just gawked at her, his chest heaving from the exertion. “What… Honor, why?”

“It was Sten’s, before we found his blade.” 

“Sten. The… warrior who murdered the family. The one you released from prison. You carried his weapons for him?” 

She shrugged, settling herself back down next to her bag. “Better me than him. At first it was because I didn’t trust him. Then it just… I did it because I did trust him. Maker, that makes no sense, does it?” 

Since he himself had broken Jack out of prison just last year, a woman who was a lot on the crazy side and had killed a whole lot of people, and now was instructing a bunch of biotic students and actually acting like a human being, he sat back down in the chair. "Actuallt, it makes more sense than you think.” 

Her teeth flashed. “Shall we continue?” 

He nodded. “I do have to ask, and don’t get mad. I’m not asking this because I think you are weak or incapable, but because I legitimately have no clue how you were able to carry all this crap. So, how did you carry all this crap?” 

“It’s not crap.” She reached in, pulling out a locket on a thin chain. Her face changed, a slight twinge of pain before she handed the necklace to him, her face turned away. “And I carried it because I had to.” 

Eyes narrowed on the slim redhead, Will traced the simple pendant in his hand, the thin silver chain swinging slightly in the air. It cool to the touch, made of some sort of gleaming metal with intricate carvings in it. He brushed over a latch and with a small flick, opened the pendant. 

Two pairs of eyes smiled up at him from the small locket. A woman and a man, both smiling and happy. The woman with a sharp chin and brilliant green eyes, the man with red hair liberally streaked with grey. They looked kind. Regal. Honor’s parents, he realized, a lump forming in his throat. “Honor, this—“ He looked up, his words catching in his throat as he realized how close she was to him. 

No longer across the room, she sat on her knees in front of him. So close she was almost pressed against his legs, she pressed one of her hands against her heart, the other reaching up shakily, tangling with the delicate chain. “My parents.” She sounded calm. But there was an ache, a sad longing in those few words that was deep and visceral and wouldn’t ever go away. 

Her parents who were murdered. Shit, Will thought as Honor turned from him. 

It hurt to see her sad. He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but when her lower lip trembled slightly all he knew is the urge to give her some sort of comfort. Knowing that that was nowhere near enough to make everything better, and that she’d probably push him away, he instead held his hand out, offering the necklace to her.

Her eyes shot up to his. Hope bloomed brightly over her face. “I can keep it?” 

“As long as you can promise it won’t explode in my face.” He tried to joke, to get that look off her face and this weird feeling out of his chest. Honor reached around her neck, fastening the clasps, her eyes never leaving him. Uncomfortably aware of her gaze on him, he shifted, looking up only when she moved away. 

She kept a fist around the locket as she settled back down on the floor. It was obvious she didn’t know what to say. There was this electrical charge in the air, something that had absolutely nothing to do with the machinery around him and everything to do with the woman in front of him. 

“Thank you, William.” 

He grunted in response, nudging her bag lightly with his foot. “Let’s finish this up. I’d like to get at least a few hours of sleep in before the world starts going to hell again.” 

“The world does that often, then?” 

Will wished he was joking when he responded. “More often than you’d think.” Way more often. If it wasn’t Cerberus killing hundreds of people over there in the name of ‘humanity’ it was the Reapers destroying another hundred worlds in a few hours. 

Another hour passed as they continued sorting through her stuff. The pile that was already ridiculously huge got bigger, the staggering number of weapons and heavy armor stuffed in the bag causing the pile to spill over half the floor. “Okay, I have to ask. How did all this stuff fit into that? And please don’t say magic.” 

Honor gave him a sour look. “How else would it work? Wynne enchanted our bags so that we could fit more in them. It got tiring after a few weeks of having to stop and sell the things we found every ten seconds. She managed to make the packs weight not increase. It didn’t work most of the time, not completely anyways. But we dealt with it.”

“Magic.” Will muttered, laying a two-handed sword on the weapons pile. “Jesus, Honor. You could outfit a small army with all this crap.” 

“It’s not crap." She said again. "Not all of it anyways. It had been awhile since I managed to go to a merchant, so that’s why I have more than usual.” 

“Oh, good. This isn’t a normal amount of cr—stuff you have.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

Will surveyed the enormous pile he and Honor had created as they had gone through her pack. Whistling softly, he quickly went over what they had found. Tents and weapons. Potions and small little stones that glowed, which she had informed him with a small smile is what made her dagger ‘explode’. He put those right back in the pocket he found them in.

Then came the weirder stuff. A hand puppet? He held it in front of him, turning it this way and that to study it, the cloth doll laying limp in his large hand. “Honor, what in God’s name is this?” 

“A puppet?”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s not some sort of… enchanted puppet that’s going to come to life and cut my eyeballs out with a needle, right?”

Honor laughed at how absurd he sounded. “Maker, no. It is… was a present. For Alistair. I found it and just never found the time to give it to him.” She took it from him, her small fingers tracing over the knitted features. “He would have loved it though.”

Will seriously doubted that. It was ragged, falling apart, one eye larger than the other, and an arm held on by a thing thread. Honor let out a soft laugh and Will ached at the sad, wistful sound. “Maker, but I do miss that man.” 

“It’s a great present.” Not really, but if she wanted to believe that then who was he to stop her?

Honor tucked the doll back into her pack, an eyebrow raising at his statement. “It is little better than junk. I tried to fix the arm, but I’ve never been very good at that sort of thing. He probably would have said it just added to the charm. I know it’s stupid, but...” she shrugged, her shoulder raising slightly, causing the collar of her shirt to slip down over the pale expanse. His gaze was drawn the exposed skin. 

She reached up absently, tugging the shirt back into place. Will let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “We only have a few more pockets to search. Shall we finish?"

He nodded and watched as she opened up another secret pocket, pulling another bed roll out, this one smelling suspiciously like the animal currently snoring behind him. She set that behind her, her nose crinkling slightly at the smell. “Sorry, didn’t have time to wash Cheese’s blanket out before the fight.” 

He nudged the bedroom further away with the dip of his boot. "I think that might be beyond saving." God, the smell was awful.

She laughed at the disgusted look on his face. Apparently eau de wet and smelly dog was not the commander's favorite. She was still laughing when she pulled out her journal. Honor had a moment of 'shit', when the worn, dark leather book was taken from her. 

"Wait!" she grabbed the journal back, ridicously embarassed about what the commander would find in the worn pages. 

"Honor. You agreed to show me everything."

"Not this. This is personal. Its just a book," Honor added when Will just held his hand out. "What harm ever came from reading a book?"

“Let me see it.” She pursed her lips, briefly considered ignoring his command before she sighed and handed the leather-bound book over. He opened it and began to read. The first few pages had carefully printed words. Stilted observations, sketched maps, and then after several more pages, he found drawings. 

Pictures of people he assumed were her companions. The ex-Templar, Alistair. Cheeky grin, freckles, he was exactly how she had described. An ethereal, elegant woman with short hair and old eyes. Leliana, he guessed, turning the page. 

There were more people, an older woman who smiled kindly up at him. A smirking man with long, pointy ears. Cheese made a few of the drawings, as did a slightly manic looking man with a long beard and a… rock? A big, angry looking rock. 

There were landscapes and random doodles. Some scary, wicked looking things that he assumed were the darkspawn. He didn’t know how long he sat there, looking through her drawings. It wasn’t until she made a soft noise that he looked up, surprised and embarrassed that he had gotten so caught up.

“I, uh. These are good. You did them?” He handed her the book, figuring it couldn’t hurt for her to have the journal. At least he hope it wouldn’t hurt. Him or his crew. 

Honor nodded, flushing slightly under his praise. “I did.”

"They're.. Nice. Good, I mean. " to cover up his fumbling, h e stood and brushed his hands on his pants as he regarded the enormous pile of 'not crap' in the middle of the med-bay. “So, in addition to journals, you have stones that explode, enough weapons and armor to stock an army, and a hand puppet.” It was impossible. Impossible, yet here he was, starting the slow process of replacing all the ridiculous and wicked looking weapons back into a normal sized bag. "Magic my ass. There has to be some trick. Some sort of gravity dampener or biotic lift.” Maybe it was… specially engineered or something. Some sort of shrinking modification and hell, he didn’t know.

She shrugged, her head bent over the book. "I have no idea what any of that means. Twas magic. Doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. And I carried all that ‘crap’ because I did what I had to do." Will stared at the back of her head, eyes narrowed in thought. Honor Cousland seemed to be a woman who did what she had to do with little to no whining. She seemed almost too good to be true. And then he gave himself a mental slap. That’s because she is too good to be true. Remember, dumbass? That little part of how she is off her rocker?

But how off her rocker is she? The woman suddenly appeared in the middle of a lightning storm with a tooth the size of his hand in her side. She had a dog the size of a shuttle, daggers that could be set on fire and not burn the person holding them, and she had a backpack that had a storage size that rivaled the Normandy’s. 

Could she be telling the truth? She turned the page, her bent form shielding the content from him. Maybe. But how? Time warp? Alternate universe? Rubbing the spot between his eyes did little to relieve his headache. Retirement never looked so good.

“Thank you, William.” Her voice was quiet, so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. He lowered his hand, startled to see her in front of him. Journal cradled in one arm, she braced her other on her hip. “I… I know you didn’t have to give me my things… I—Thank you.” 

“Shepard, Chakwas got a response about the pris—guest lady from that doctor. She wants to brief everyone in the conference room.”

Will watched as the mask slipped back on Honor’s face. She lowered back down onto her haunches. She obviously had known what the pilot had meant, and what the briefing was going to be about. “Tell everyone to meet there in five.” He wished there was something he could say or do to make this easier. For her and for himself. 

“Roger that, Commander.”

He let a few moments pass by in silence, watched as she gathered the rest of her things and shoved them a bit too hard back into her bag. He flinched slightly with every angry thrust, but figured it was safer to keep his reservations to himself. He just hoped to God she didn’t blow them up because she was pissed at him. 

Will held a hand out for her to put the bag. He grunted when she shoved it in his arms, the heavy leather driving into his stomach. His teeth gritted against the need to snap at her. “Honor…”

She looked over her shoulder, disdain written clearly on her face. “I just forgot for a moment.” 

He shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t want to know. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of responding. “Forgot what?” 

Turning to face him fully, she tilted her head slightly, waited a few moments before responding. “That you are my captor. That I am not here willingly. That you have the power to do what you will with me.” 

“Goddamnit, Honor. We’ve been through this. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you—“

“Yet you treat me with suspicion and contempt. You act as if I am some sort of criminal intent on causing you and your precious ‘crew’ some sort of harm. Which is complete and utter bullshit.” She put the small side table between them, her half eaten dinner still sitting on it. He didn't know what pissed him off more, the fact she was using it as some sort of barrier between them, that she felt the need to protect herself from him, or the fact that she had barely touched her food. He didn't know which reason worried him more. "Don't act like you care, commander. Don't act like this bothers you."

Will slammed his hands down on the table in between them. Ignoring the cup that fell over and the suddenly alert Cheese, “It’s very convenient of you to forget that we don’t know a goddamn thing about you. Where you came from. What happened to you. Why you have a dog the size of a freaking house. You’re an unknown, Honor. It doesn’t matter how much I want to trust you or how much I want to believe you. This ship, this crew, they are my family and until I can make sure that you aren’t some sleeper agent or assassin, this is how things are going to be.” 

“You daft bastard! I’ve told you everything about me. If that interrogation wasn’t bloody good enough for you, if you can’t ‘trust’ me, then why keep me on your ship? Toss me over the side and be done with it!”

“Don’t tempt me, princess.”

Honor bared her teeth. “Try it and see what happens.”

Somehow they had ended up toe to toe, shouting in each other’s face. 

“God, if you aren’t the most spoiled—“

“Scruffy—“

He rubbed a hand over his chin, frowning at the scrape of stubble. “Stuck up—“

“Nug humping—“

Will wrapped his hands around her arms, lifted her until her nose was almost touching his. “Stop using that insult. It’s not fair if I don’t know what it means.”

Honor struggled in his grasp. “Oh, by all means, let me explain it to you.” And she did. With explicit detail. 

He set her down, hands sliding up her arms to rest on her shoulders. She was glaring up at him, hair falling around her face. He moved away, hands rubbing his neck before he sat down heavily in the chair and began to laugh. 

Honor blistered, his laughter scraping against her temper. How dare he laugh at her? As if she were some joke. “What is so funny?” She hissed lmll 

Will laughed until tears were running down his face. He grasped his stomach, groaning at the strain. “You. Oh, God. You are---“ He laughed harder, dropping his head into his hands. 

“You found that amusing did you?” The question was asked with enough silky violence that Will jerked his gaze up to Honor. 

He held his hands up when he noticed the flames shooting out of her eyes. “Whoa now. I didn’t mean any offense. I wasn’t laughing at you exactly. I was more laughing with you.”

“Do I seem like I am finding this amusing?” 

It was starting to dawn on Will that he had somehow stepped into dangerous territory. Honor was already pissed off, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he had dug himself a nice, big hole, and it was steadily getting bigger. He worked his way around an answer, his eyes narrowing as he sifted through responses that were the least likely to get him hit. Again. “No.” He finally answered, figuring it was the safest. Still, he scooted his chair away from her. “Not at all.”

“That’s what I thought.” God, you couldn’t melt butter with that tone. Retreat seemed to be his best bet. Retreat. Evade. Change the subject. Anything to get that dangerous light out of her eyes. “You are the second person to laugh at me today. Maker, it is bad enough that you are holding me captive, but you do not need to mock me as well.” 

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’m not your enemy, Honor.” He said stiffly, standing up. The laughter faded as he drew himself to full height, towering over her. She didn’t look scared. Miserable, maybe. And angry with it. 

Lifting her gaze from the bag clutched in his hand, she scoffed, “Not from where I’m standing, commander.” 

Hurt flashed, a brief, bright spark of emotion before his carefully controlled mask slipped back on. She saw it, hated that she felt guilty about it. She wanted the anger. The righteous fury. But all she felt was sad. They had been getting along so great, and then there had been that sudden slap of reality. He was her captor. He had full control of her life. 

But he had been so kind to her. Not once threatening her life. Well, he had threatened to strangle her, but she had felt no danger from him. In fact, she had been almost too comfortable with him. He had bullied her though. Interrogated her and taken her things and held her captive in this strange metal room. 

He had healed her wounds, fed her, allowed her to get clean and he was giving her such a carefully blank look, the might dimming in his eyes. Her mouth opened to say something. To yell at him, to apologize, when the ceiling began to talk again. She glared up at the voice. It was irritating, having conversations interrupted by an unseen person. 

“Commander, everyone has arrived. They are waiting in the conference room.” Joker said, uncharacteristically professional. They both shifted apart, Honor moving to sit on the bed next to Cheese, Will walking to the pack that he had dropped on the floor. He thanked the pilot.

His movements were jerky stiff as he slung the pack over his shoulder. He stopped at the doorway, turning back around. His mouth opened and shut, tightened into a thin line.

"Go," she waved a hand, shooing him away. Will clenched his fists tightly. She was trying to rile him, trying to get herself back on level ground. She was scared, he told himself. Which unfortunately made two of them. "They’re waiting for you and I’m sure you're ever so eager to try and prove that I'm some sort of psychotic liar."

"I don't want that." He said quietly. “At all.” Her eyes flew to his, but he was already striding out of the room.

Honor stood there in the empty room with her fists clenched at her side. She didn’t know how much time had passed that she stood there with the soft snoring from Cheese and her silent raging as her only company, fists clenched at her side as she damned the moment fate decided to drop her at William Shepard’s feet. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doctor Chakwas began her debrief by distributing datapads that held the results that Dorctor Hansen had sent her. After ensuring everyone had one in hand, she turned to the commander, waiting for his signal. 

She wanted to read over the results briefly before their meeting. She hated debriefing without having at least a basic understanding of what she was to be speaking about. The message was huge, the amount of data Hansen had provided had her smiling. The old bastard always held the belief that too much was never enough. 

Taking the few minutes as everyone settled into their seats, she handed Liara a datapad and began to skim the one she held in her hand. What she had read was enough to have panic bubbling, disbelief and fear twisting together in the pit of her stomach. There were a few things that didn’t surprise her, the young woman’s age, her lack of a translator, but there were things that, despite everything she had seen serving on the Normandy, scared her. 

Liara placed her datapad on the desk behind them. She let out a quiet breath, the only reaction she gave that told Chakwas the information bothered the asari as much as it did her. 

“Commander, at your order.” Chakwas finally said, proud of the fact her voice did not shake. Both women turning to face the small crowd. Shepard had requested only a select few of the crew to be present. The ground team on Valenca was there, Garrus and James sitting in chairs on the far side of the wall. EDI was here, as was Traynor and Cortez. Ten was notably absent, but after the lecture Chakwas had just given her, she could understand the woman’s reluctance to see her. 

Will had noticed his sister's absence as well, but figured due to the topic of the briefing, it was probably better if she weren't here. He didn't even want to be here. He didn't want to hear the truth, to finally hear the facts that Honor truly was sick. It was even harder now, knowing what he knew. Knowing her. After talking with her and being with her for the past few hours, he was struck at how... normal she was. She had a temper, she was sarcastic and stubborn, and funny and she got sad and angry. 

She bought a puppet for her friend and drew caricatures of her dog. 

Shit. He waved a hand at the doctor, hoping she got the hint to start the debrief. Will wasn't sure if he opened his mouth if he'd say something stupid, like 'let's forget the data, I want to keep her' kind of stupid. James nudged Garrus, his quiet 'do you understand this shit?' earning him a sharp glare from the woman in front. The marine hunched over, muttering under his breath as he continued to read the briefing. EDI had already processed the data, and was sitting almost primly as she waited for the rest of the crew to finish.

Liara was watching him, almost intently studying him. The rest of the crew was silent as they read the information Chakwas passed to them. He gave Liara what he hoped was a reassuring, confident smile before looking down to read his own datapad. The information flashed onto the screen, graphs and charts punctuating the paragraphs. He didn’t speak ‘doctor’, but he knew enough that the little bit he did understand had his blood freezing. 

"Jesus Christ." He breathed, slowly standing up, the datapad slipping out of nerveless fingers as Chakwas told the room, her voice grim. “She’s telling the truth.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I managed to get almost all of my homework done, so I was able to work on this chapter all last night and today. I've read and reread over it, so hopefully there's no errors or typos or weird parts that I missed. I really, really hope y'all like it! As always, I love the love, so let me know what you think!! 
> 
> Love,  
> Jetaime

Will splashed cold water over his face and closed his eyes at the welcome reprieve from the fever that seemed to be burning him up from inside. Not that he was sick, no thanks to the ultra-state-of-the-art cybernetic implants Cerberus had so graciously given him, Will rarely, if ever got sick anymore. Injured, yes. Tired? Oh, hell yes. But sick? Nope, no more common cold for this guy.

 

He sighed and cupped his hands under the faucet. When they filled, he scrubbed at his eyes, and wanted to get on his knees and thank whoever was listening as the grit in his eyes began to lessen. Not sick, he said to himself, depleted, drained. 

 

Exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, face haggard. His scars stood out in stark relief under the fluorescent lights of his small bathroom. He lowered his hands to grip the cool steel of the sink, his knuckles turning white from the strain, and saw the dark, haunted look in his eyes. He looked almost ten years older than he really was. 

 

God, this war was a bitch. Each day brought new horrors, each moment added more stress. If it wasn't the Reapers destroying another world, killing billions of people in mere days, it was Cerberus trying their damnedest to stop defeat the very people that are defending the universe. Cerberus was turning out to be almost as dangerous as the Reapers, and wasn't that just a kick in the ass. 

 

He felt ashamed, sick that he had once worked with Cerberus. He had once taken orders from the very man who was instrumental in the slaughter of millions. Mindless, madness, violence. The Illusive Man had taken it far beyond mere human interests, he was massacring the same people he was trying to 'advance'. No, it was greed. Twisted, evil greed and nothing more. 

Will knew, in his head, in his mind that it wasn’t his fault. He had no more control over the Illusive Man and Cerberus than he did the Reapers, but the faces of the people Cerberus has massacred haunted him. All those civilians on Benning, the soldiers and scientists killed on Mars. Kaidan’s lifeless, bloodied body, his sister’s tear streaked face, empty eyes. 

The metal groaned underneath the pressure of his grip, the cybernetics making his grip even stronger than normal. Unclenching his fingers from around the sink, he saw the two identical imprints on the sink from his hands. 

Wincing as he stretched his fingers, he looked up and met his gaze in the mirror, and not for the first time since this whole thing had started, right after Eden Prime, he doubted himself. It was easier when you were in the heat of the moment, where split decisions were met with either life or death, your own life and death. But now, sitting in the relative comfort of his ship, clean and fed, when billions were dying or dead, wounded and scared, he could doubt.   
Everyone was depending on him. Not just his crew or the Alliance or even humanity. Every single being in this universe was banking on the fact that he was who everyone claimed he was. That he could do what everyone says he can. 

What if he couldn’t? 

Shit, he could barely handle crap happening on his own ship. Even with all the information they had on Honor, he didn’t know what to do. The decision evaded him, darting between stubborn disbelief and the yearning need to have her close. 

Facts, Will. Focus on the facts. They had found traces of stardust in the burns on her armor and skin, baryonic particles and other scientific mumbo jumbo that told them that she had fallen into some sort of black hole. And lived. She was twenty six years old, had a blood type that wasn’t in any record, human or alien, she lacked all the vaccines and antigens humans are pumped with when they are born. 

Honor had none of the indications of space travel. No element zero in her blood, no translator, no traces of the minerals that fill the universe, mineral build up that living beings who spend any amount of time in space has in their blood. 

Which tells them that she had a short, desperate fall through space and time and just happened to land at his feet. Will didn’t know which part of the entire situation worried him the most, that she had been telling the truth and she actually was some time travelling warrior princess, or that he had all this hard data in front of him, information gathered by some of the greatest minds in the entire universe, and still he doubted. 

He didn’t want to doubt. In fact, he was almost certain the reason he was so reluctant to completely believe was the fact he wanted her to be telling the truth so badly. His judgement had been clouded, the methodical, levelheaded, dependable part of him was compromised. And wasn’t that just a son of a bitch? 

He finally had what he had been waiting for since he first laid eyes on her, unconscious and half-dead on Valence. The truth. Yet, here he was, hiding from his crew, hiding from making a decision, because he had not one ever-loving idea what to do. 

“You still doubt? After everything you have seen?” 

He didn’t jump at the woman’s voice. Will turned slowly, keeping his hand hidden as he slid it slowly down, reaching for the pistol he always kept there. He cursed inwardly when his hand touched nothing but soft fabric. She walked through the black, the artificial light on the Normandy dimming around them both as she grew closer. 

He’s never seen this woman before, but she looked familiar. There was something about her eyes, the flashes of power and knowing, that hit something in his memory. An older woman, with hair styled into two wicked looking horns, the rest falling in silken waves around her face. She was encased in leather in deep, mysterious purple. She had no weapons on her that he could see, but still, he felt the danger and threat rolling off her in waves. 

“Who are you?” He demanded, calculating the distance between him and the door, and though she looked older, not frail, nor delicate, but damaged, broken somehow. He figured he could rush past her, the element of surprise and his size would factor in his favor, and by then he could signal EDI and the rest of the crew and they could figure out how the hell she got on his ship.

She cocked her head, and the eyes he thought golden before but were actually a terrifyingly bright yellow flashed with humor. “I am Flemeth.”

“Well, Flemeth. How did you get on my ship?” Keep her talking, keep her distracted. He inched his way to the right, his movements calm and subtle. Just a few inches more and he’d be ready to act. 

“You asked me to come.” 

Will focused on her face, on the mysterious glint that began to surround her. “No offense, ma’am, but there is no way in hell I’d invite you onto my ship.” The glint grew, the light exploding around them. Will dove for the door and landed hard on the ground when her foot caught him in his stomach, sending him crashing to the floor.

But instead of metal under him, it was soft, decaying dirt, covered in sharp branches and rocks that cut into his skin as he struggled to his feet. He saw stir in the shadows and despite his muscles screaming under the strain, he jumped up, his fists coming up to defend, to attack.

“What the….” 

A dream, he realized his hand falling to his side as the trees rose from the shadows, dense, unyielding, and stretching out towards the darkening sky like grasping, gnarled fingers. He had been here before, in his dreams, the maze-like, hazy quality of the world around him a familiar sight as he slept. It was the same place he so often saw, the place where he tried to save the boy he couldn’t save, the place filled with screaming and flames and fear. 

“Shit.” He said, with feeling. 

“Indeed.” Flemeth stepped closer, her long cloak billowing behind her, though there was no wind. The light seemed to shy from her, darkness encasing her in a wraith like glow. Will shifted, his eyes darting to the edges of the forest, where the light and rolling black battled, wondering if he dared to run. To escape. She moved in front of him, her hands resting on her waist. Will shuddered when she spoke, her question no more than a breath that slid down his spine. 

"Are you trying to escape from me, or from yourself?"

"Great. You're a mind reader."

Her mouth curled into a knowing smile. “I’m much more than that.” The woman said, tilting her head to study him. “But then, so are you. Just a man. Scared, lost, dead and dying, bright pain, life and tragedy. What a journey you have had.”

Will snorted, wondered how his subconscious had gotten so screwed up that he started dreaming about matronly women encased in leather and sprouting riddles and metaphors. “Yeah, it’s been a real hoot.”

“Your future is no better. But what is a future without a past?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?"

She just smiled. "Tell me commander. What does fate mean to you?" 

"Fate? What...?"

"Fate." She repeated, eyes burning bright, burning straight through him. "Is fate the beautiful poetry shining in the starlight, put there by things you don't believe in, but believed by people who believe in you. Or is it more, I wonder. Perhaps it is the stories written in the blood and sacrifice of those who fight and die for it. Is it the souls of good men and women who struggle in the darkness? Fate is a ravenous beast, a stubborn bitch and she will not be happy until she has consumed you. So, will you let her consume you, commander?"

Unnerved, and a little frightened at the vehemence and damnation in her voice, he just smirked and hoped he was able to hide his fear. "Listen, lady. Since I’m ninety percent sure this is all a dream and I get enough of this crap when I’m awake, I’m going to have no problem telling you to kiss my ass.”

Her smile was more teeth than smile, and for a moment, the air around them stirred, electricity tingling through him. Then the woman tilted her head, and the most horrific, pain he had ever felt assaulted his senses, piercing into his skin, deep inside, sending him to his knees. "A dream? Perhaps, but perhaps it is more," her words whispered over him as he writhed on the ground. "Do you feel pain in dreams?" 

He gasped, desperate for release, for oblivion. "I'll a-ad---Jesus--- admit," He clutched his chest at the fire spread through him, gritting his teeth against the cries that wanted to escape. "This is a f-first." 

His vision wavered, black tinged the edges as he began to drown, choking on the pain when he felt a touch, barest hint of pressure and the pain evaporated, just like that. It was like a fog lifting, the sun burning through the impenetrable haze. The sudden release was dizzying, the relief almost as painful as the flames that had licked up his body. He laid there, breathing in the dust, contemplated for the first time in his life hitting a woman. 

"I would not recommend that, Commander."

"I dunno," he told the ground, perfectly content to lay on his face for the next few years, "it seems like it might be worth it."

She laughed, the sound too loud, too bright. Will pushed himself up, cursing as his arms shook under the strain. When he managed to arrange himself into sitting position, he glared up at the woman, too weak to stand. Her eyes glittered in response. "Your fear blinds you to what she really is. What she could be. The Grey Warden is not as she seems and she yet she is everything. She has to be." 

His gut tightened at the mention of Honor. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

There was a beat of silence, before a whisper of movement had him glancing up. 

The woman waved a hand. There was moment of complete nothingness before they flashed into chaos. An epic battle was raging around them. He could smell the acrid stench of burning flesh and the coppery tang of blood, hear the cries of the dying and the clash of battle.

And there was Honor, fighting for her life in the middle of all the deadly turmoil.

"Jesus." He jumped up to his feet, his muscles screaming at the sudden movement. "Jesus Christ." He took a step towards her, and another, but each step took him farther and farther away. "Honor!" He roared, his voice lost in the mayhem, when a huge, monstrous dragon came down from the sky. It looked like it had crawled straight out of hell, and it was heading straight for Honor.

She was surrounded by monsters, arrows singing through the air, her hair falling out of her braid as she rolled, dodging an ax that was as big as her; the thing that wielded it hissed its displeasure as the blade hit the ground missing her by mere inches. It raised it again, hefting the huge weight as if it were as light as a feather. The arrow between its eyes stopped it cold. 

Horrified, mesmerized, he watched as Honor felled another, then another, her arrows flying and hitting their mark with deadly accuracy. He felt sick as dread and horror twisted and turned inside him, unable to help, helpless to look away. It was then, at that moment, as she whipped her bow across the face of a monster, sending it careening back into another, her arrow slicing through the neck of the first and into the chest of the other, that the realization dawned on him. This is exactly how she explained it. Almost verbatim. 

What she hadn't told him was the air filled with smoke and ash. The ground trembling beneath them as more and more demons poured from God knows where. She didn't tell him about the fear and the hate and the screaming. Soldiers of all shapes and sizes, humans carrying swords and staffs, flinging lightning and arrows and blades at the thing, flowed into the fray. Men and women, and children?!-- No, he realized, dwarves. Men with beards down to the middle of their chests, women with tattoos and grim smiles on their face. 

"God." He stumbled over bodies, the ground slick with blood, sightless eyes staring up at him as he tried to reach her. He slipped, fell, gagged when he realized he had slipped on the entrails of a young soldier, the man whispering and praying, his words babbled and ruined. 

Honor ignored it, despite the flames spilling from its mouth landing inches from her. Her teeth gritting as she notched her last arrow, and aimed. It cut through the air, the path it traveled shined through the ash and smoke, and then there was a thunderous roar of pain as her arrow hit its mark and embedded deeply in the dragon’s vulnerable stomach. Honor tossed her bow down and shrugged off her quiver as she ran. She dodged and weaved through the desperate, deadly press of battle.

He saw the dragon advance, crushing humans and demons and dwarves as it stormed towards Honor.

Will charged forward, cursing viciously, his body automatically rushing to defend when the dragon attacked, its giant maw opening up and crashing down on Honor. Blood roared in his head and froze in his body. He dimly heard screaming and realized it was him, he fought against an unseen enemy, his body held immobile by invisible hands as the dragon shook Honor, its teeth cutting through armor and flesh. She cried out, as did the soldiers around her. 

“Let me go, goddamn it. Honor. Jesus God. Honor! Let me help. I need to help.” He pleaded with the woman, ready to get on his knees and beg if she would just let him go. 

The woman patted his shoulder, almost comfortingly. “It matters not what you do now, commander. This is in the past. She has already fought and won her victory. This is all for you. For you to believe.”

A grey haired woman screamed Honor’s name, the staff in her hands whirling brightly around her as she weaved a spell. The giant man next to her roared, the sound rival to the dragon’s cry, and charged, his blade swinging through the air, cutting through demons and the dragon alike. The dragon reared, dropping Honor from its mouth as it screeched in pain. 

The man managed to catch Honor before she fell. Will shuddered at the blood dripping down her side, her small hand clenching desperately at the tooth lodged in her side. She swayed when he put her down and used her free hand to brace herself on him. The man said something to her, something that had her jerking away. He reached for her, but she evaded his touch and streaked back into the chaos.

He and the woman tried to follow her, but a few of the demons attacked, causing the couple to fight desperately for their lives. Honor sprinted to the hissing dragon, her eyes locked on the smoke curling around its mouth, the wicked tail cutting a brutal path through the crowd. She dove over the dragon’s tail, rolling over bodies and the wounded, she grabbed a blade, bringing the sword up she charged. 

 

It swiped at her with its front claws, its deadly talons missing her by inches. He was heaving in air that was thick with smoke and death, his fists clenching helplessly at his side as he watched her fall to the ground when she didn’t move quick enough and its tail slammed into her, sending her flying into the nearest wall. Managing to keep her feet, she wavered, struggling to stay up. 

The hands holding him gripped him tighter as he fought like a man possessed to be freed. He could see her making her way back to the dragon. Exhaustion and agony slowed her movements, her fighting grew sloppy. 

She still had the blade gripped in her hand and almost like God himself reached down and parted the fray, there was an opening, a path free to the dragon. Honor froze for a moment, he could almost see her gearing up, preparing herself. She knew she was going to die, he realized and felt tears gather in his eyes at the knowledge in hers. 

Then she was running, the blade glinting, slicing into air and then into skin and bone. He was thrown back at the burst of light and energy, the hands holding him back evaporating, the world around him flying away as if it were made of sand. He fell, struggled to keep Honor in his sight, but then there was just dust and ash and Flemeth standing in front of him.

“Bring her back. Take me back to her.” 

“Why? You do not believe it to be real.” 

“I don’t want it to be real. But Jesus. She almost died up there. I have to make sure she is okay.” She almost died and fought like a demon and God, she was so fucking brave and strong and he wanted to tear something apart and hold her and he needed to wake up. “It can’t be real.” 

It’s not real. No one can go through that and be sane. Be alive. Not real. Not real. 

He may have seen some crazy things, stuff that would and could defy any reason and logic, almost every day of his life, but he couldn't believe... He couldn't. Will closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up. Get away from this woman and her knowing eyes and whispered questions. Hope bloomed and died just as quickly as his eyes opened to the same old woman laughing in his face. "Goddamn it." 

No. Her voice whispered in his mind. Gods have nothing to do with this. "Get out of my head." His voice was calm despite the waves of emotion rolling through him. 

"Its dark in there. You get so lost in the black, the twisting maze. She helps. I know she does. She's like a beacon, a light."

"Fuck me.” 

"She is your savior." Flemeth inserted angrily, stabbing a long, tapered finger at him. 

"Oh, come on. Seriously? What she's supposed to save me from the everlasting darkness? My guide, my guardian angel, my soul mate?” He asked sarcastically, sneering up at the woman. Fear made him mean, guilt made him angry. 

"Yes." She said simply. 

"Jesus." He sprawled himself backwards, threw an arm over his face. “Wake up, Shepard. Wake up. Wake up.

"You're afraid." He tried to ignore her, but her words struck a chord, made him pick at that tiny thread, unraveling the calm. He was afraid. Is afraid. Of the war, of failure, of Honor and just what she was to him. He hated all this crap about destiny. He hated having some jerk off pulling his strings like a puppet. He just wanted to wake up and realize that this was all a dream. He needed to make sure Honor was okay, and apologize for treating her like crap when they first met. He needed to do so much and he was so freaking tired. 

She was watching him, a mixture of pity and irritation on her face. It was the pity that pissed him off. 

"You’re goddamn right I’m afraid. Do you know what's going on out there right now? In the real world? It's mayhem. Its millions of people dying every day. It's not this pretty little dream world you live in."

The world began to shake. The sky crumbled above him as the ground beneath him turned to ash. He rolled to the side dodging the pieces of sky that fell like shimmering jewels, coughed as his movements kicked up clogs of ash. Screams of agony and the cries of the damned surrounded him, 

"Pretty little dream world, is it?" Her voice was close, almost touching his ear, and it rang out as she raised her hands, the world falling into chaos around her. "This is what your world will be if you do not trust her. You will fail. Suffering. Destruction. Death." Every word was emphasized with a strike of lightning. "Is this what you want?" 

He rolled, cursing as a piece of jeweled sky fell behind him, sticking into the ground like a dagger. Unable to speak, he spent the next few moments diving out of the way of the world falling to pieces around him. 

Flemeth walked towards him, the chaos swarming around her, but not touching her. “A dream world that isn’t a dream. There is still doubt in your heart, you stubborn fool. I didn’t want to cause you pain. I didn’t want it to come to this.” 

When the world stopped falling around him, when the dust settled and the screaming stopped Will braced his hands on his knees. Wiping the blood from his face, he laughed. “Too late for that one, ma’am.” Cracked rib, maybe two, scratches and cuts covered his face and arms, his lip swollen and bruised. “Way too late for that.” 

“You’ll live. But you need more to see.” She looked almost apologetic as she pulled out a wicked looking dagger. “You only have yourself to blame, really.” The blade flashed and there was nothing but pain.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age/Mass Effect cross-over, AU-type deal. The hero of Ferelden wakes up after sacrificing herself to the Archdemon, bloody, bruised and in the Mass Effect Universe. Lucky for her, Commander Shepard just happened to be in the neighborhood. As she recovers, and learns more about this strange place, about this strange man, as they learn about each other, they realize that this crazy thing called Fate may not be so awful after all. Battles and laughs, drama and the Reapers, love and the Illusive Man (Read: Illusive Douchebag), this story has it all.
> 
> And maybe just a dash of adorable Mabari hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a bit longer to get out! Finals and homework kicked my ass. But I'm done for the semester! So, I celebrated by working on this chapter all day. Hopefully you like it. As always, I love the love and hearing from you all. So, let me know what you think, if you have any conscrit or just want to tell me how amazingly amazing my story is. You know, anything like that. 
> 
> Love,  
> jetaime

_Believe._

Will jerked awake with a silent whisper crawling over his skin and a bloody gash on his chest.

He slapped a hand over the wound, cursing viciously at the burn. He struggled to sit up, the pain in his side almost rivaling that of the pain on his chest. Blood ran down his arm, pooling underneath him. His shirt was shredded, a long gash centered right over his heart. He sucked in a breath when he pulled the shirt away from his chest, the fabric sticking in the wound. It was deep, about six inches long. A clean cut. 

She had stabbed him in his dreams, her blade arcing through the air, slicing through cloth and skin. “Shit.” He hissed, dropping his head back. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. She had hurt him in his dream and he had woken up with a knife wound. Bleeding profusely. Ribs ached. Probably broken. “What the hell just happened?” He asked himself, struggling to sit up fully. The motion proved too painful, each movement tugging on the gash on his chest. “Jesus bleeding Christ.” 

Blood began to pool underneath him, soaking into the cushion. He grabbed the small pillow to his left, and apologizing briefly in his mind to Liara and Tali, who had bought it for him because he ‘lacked any personal things’ and pressed it against the bleeding wound. 

He breathed slowly through the pain. He’s been stabbed before, multiple times, and never before had he felt pain like this. Poisoned? Probably. Cursing Flemeth to hell, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up and promptly lurched over and threw up. His elbows rested on his knees, his head hanging low as he blinked blearily, trying to gather the energy, the will to move. “Move. Move.” He gritted out the words, forcing them between clenched teeth. 

His knees shook, limbs heavy and numb as he pushed himself up. Will cursed as he stumbled, falling against the fish tank, he left smear of blood on the glass as he sank down. A garish slash of color against the serene blue of his fish tank. His palms were pressed against the floor, his stomach heaved, rebelling against pain and the faint smell of sulfur. 

He trembled, falling to the ground as his strength abruptly gave out. The cool metal was a small, sharp sort of relief pressed against his burning skin; a relief that vanished as fire and agony erupted on his chest as his wound was forced against the grated floor. “Fuck me.”  
“Commander? Are you alright?” Joker. Will had never heard anything more beautiful than the sullen pilot’s voice. “EDI’s picking up some weird readings.” 

“Send—help.” His throat was raw, each breath felt like a shard of glass. The room swam around him as he managed to sit up. Nausea rolled over in his stomach and he heaved, gagging because he had nothing left in him. “Shit. Shit.” 

There was a sound, a slight whir as his rooms cameras came on. “Holy shit. Holy, holy shit. What the hell happened?” 

“Joker.” He groaned, unable to fully articulate anything beyond a low, pained, “Help.”

“Ships on alert, commander. Team is in the elevator on the way. Chakwas is ready in the med-bay.” Unable to answer, he merely nodded and leaned his head back against the couch. His eyes closed on their own volition, and the struggle to keep them open proved too much, so he just sat there with his eyes closed and counted the seconds that felt like hours as he waited.

“What… the hell? What the hell happened? You were fine, right? You went up for a nap. Two hours tops, you said. You were out for hours though. We should have known something was wrong then. But we figured you needed the sleep. You look like you got the shit kicked out of you. Repeatedly. EDI checked the ship’s live feed, there are no unwanted guests on here. Garrus and Cortez and a few engineers are doing a full sweep of the ship. So far, they haven’t come up with anything. Unless you were attacked by one of the crew. Maybe you should have sprung for those fancy rations last week. So, you going to tell me what happened?”

Will shot the ceiling the bird. 

“Roger that, commander. I’ll wait for the debrief.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A broken rib, two bruised ribs, mild concussion, minor cuts and bruises, and a two inch deep, six inch long gash on your chest. And you’re saying this all happened while you were sleeping?" Chakwas was muttering under her breath, flitting back and forth between her medical equipment and his prone form. He watched her, eyes weary and slightly hazed from the drugs she pumped him with. 

“I’m saying—“He breathed hard through his nose when Chakwas prodded his side. “I’m saying I was attacked somehow in… my dreams. I guess. One minute she wasn’t there, the next I was being tossed around on top of some castle and there was a dragon and then the woman was beating the crap out of me.”

"All the weird shit always happens to you." James decided as Chakwas stalked past him with a medi-pad in one hand, a bottle of clotting agent in the other, and flames shooting out of her eyes. Will had to agree with the marine, especially as Chakwas pressed the medi-pad soaked with antiseptic and clotting agents against the gash on his chest. A gash he got from a woman in a purple cat suit in his dreams. He sucked in a breath as the burn spread, tendrils of fire and ice and fucking pain rocketing through him. 

There was a blessed moment of relief when she eased the pressure, but then she was dousing the pad with more crap and bearing down even harder than before. He jerked, growling low in his throat."Christ on a Crutch, doc. Why don't you press a little harder?" 

Chakwas ignored him. "Honor, get over here." Honor jumped at her name, but moved over to where Chakwas gestured to next to him. Will struggled to keep it together, to not break down and cry as the pain wracked his body as the medicine began to clean the wound, instead he focused on the ceiling, breathing in his nose and out his mouth. The light touch on his shoulder made him jump, then cursing as it jarred his wound. Honor kept her hand on his shoulder, a steadying hand that comforted him. The thought made him pause, his pain momentarily forgotten. He caught her eyes, shifting away unconciously at the shame he saw in them.

"Don't move." Chakwas snapped, grabbing Honor's hand before it could slid off his shoulder and slapped another pad on it. "Put this over it and keep it there. The wound is taking too long to heal. There may be poison." She broke off, muttering to herself about antidotes. Honor looked like she would rather be anywhere but where she was, but her touch was firm, determined as she followed Chakwas’ instructions. She pressed the soaked medi-pad against his wound using both her hands. 

He stared down at them, marveling at their small size, at the strength behind them. They were dainty, delicate, and capable of such vicious violence that he managed to smile. She wasn’t looking at him, instead her gaze was focused on her task, and her mouth was set in a straight, grim line as she focused. 

"Poison?" Ten gritted out. She ripped her baseball cap off, and began pushed her hands through the short locks. "Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?" There was enough fear in the attitude that kept Will from snapping at her. 

Instead, he grinned at his twin, her answering sneer doing more for his pain than any medicine Chakwas could give him. "What can I say? I like to live dangerously." 

"Idiot." Ten muttered as she went back to her pacing. 

His grin fell off with a curse, his free hand coming up to grip Honor’s wrist. “Sorry.” She shifted the pad slightly, the dried blood sticking to the pad and his skin. “She needs to put more potion on the cloth.” 

Chakwas indeed poured more clotting agents onto his wound, her other hand readying the needle she had readied with antidote. “This is going to hurt, commander. It has antidote that was manufactured by the Salarians. Supposedly it’s supposed to remedy over a hundred diffrenet poisons. Let’s hope this dream witch didn’t hit you with something new.” 

“Comforting.” Will said, dryly. It did hurt, it hurt like a mother fucker when Chakwas stuck the needle in his wound. 

Steady, green eyes filled his vision as she bent over, shifting to allow Chakwas room to antidote in the other side of his wound. “Does it hurt bad?” She asked softly. 

“Like a bitch.” He muttered back.

"How did this happen?" Ten interupted.

“I don’t know. One minute, I was standing in my bathroom, the next she was stepping out from the shadows like a freaking villain from one of those ancient movies you like to watch." He told her, taking in a deep breath to cover the whimper that pressed against his lips when Chakwas dabbed some antiseptic to his cuts. “Then it was all chaos and battles and her kicking my ass. She said she was from the same world as Honor. Showed me—“

"Honor..." Ten's fury erupted, her head whipping around to the pale, quiet woman standing next to Will’s bed. She tensed slightly, but kept her hand firmly on his chest. Ten shot up out of her chair, dodging Garrus’ attempt to stop her. "You did this--" James threw an arm out, catching Ten in the chest, blocking her from reaching Honor. He wrapped the arm around her and dragged her to the other side of the room. 

"Think about it." James told the fuming woman. Her was stone, a furious carving as James’ large hands cupped her shoulders, giving her a soft shake. "Honor was in here, with the doc for hours now. Unless you admit she has some freaky voodoo powers, than she had nothing to do with this."

The blush deepened, a mixture of anger and fear and embarrassment before she shrugged James’ hands away and returned to her seat. She studiously ignored Will’s glare, instead focused on her hands twisting in her lap. "So if Red had nothing to do with your ass kicking, then who did?"

“Flemeth.” Honor said quietly on the other side of Will. 

He nodded as golden eyes flashed dangerously in his mind. Dangerous gold, haunting words. Terrifying implications. “That would be her.”

“Who is Flemeth?” Garrus asked Honor. 

Honor turned to him. "Flemeth is a witch. One of the most powerful witches in Thedas. She came to me before I woke up. Said things of destiny and fate, showed me my... parents. My home before it was destroyed. She spoke of you," Honor told Will. "Said I was sent here to help you."

"Yeah, you sure have helped him a lot." Ten muttered.

Honor closed her eyes briefly, shielding the anger that flared before speaking again. 

"She said that you would fail without my help. I… told her to piss off essentially,” Ten snorted and James whispered a ‘nice’. “I don't know what it means, what any of it means. I'm sorry. I didn’t know she would attack you. It's my fault. It caused this... I never thought... I didn't know it was possible for her to come to you. You've never been to the Fade, you've never been in our world. How could she find you, see you? How could she hurt you? Why would she hurt you?"

"No one is blaming you, Honor." Will said, gently, rising up on his elbows.

"Speak for yourself." Ten stood, ignoring Will’s warning to be quiet. She turned to the rest of the room, holding her hands out, her gesture encompassing Honor and a snoring Cheese. “I’m not saying she attacked him herself, but that demon-bitch attacked you because of her.” She met Honor’s eyes, saw something reflect there that she didn’t want to name, and then turned back to her brother. She pointed back at Honor. "You can't just ignore that, Will. She is dangerous. She shouldn't be here, shouldn't stay if all she brings to the table is some freak who attacks people in their sleep."

Chakwas gently pulled Honor’s frozen hand off of Will’s chest. She led the woman away, giving her a quiet command to stay put by the door. Honor looked stunned. She looked small and alone. Chakwas returned to the center of the room, crossing her arms over her chest and looked at them all with a gimlet glare that she had perfected over the years dealing with unruly soldiers and marines. “I’ll take her out, clean her up, and get her into some clean clothes. You need to figure out what to do next. I’ll bring her back in thirty minutes.”

"I think she needs to stay." James said after the door shut behind Chakwas and Honor. "Shut up," he interrupted Ten when she whirled on him. "Just because you don't like her doesn't mean that she isn't important. Seems to me, after all this shit we found out about her. After everything that happened with Shepard, she is right where she needs to be. So, let's lay out the facts. We have a time-travelling warrior princess--"

“She’s not a princess.” Will muttered, hunching his shoulders when James shot a look of surprise his way. 

“She acts like a princess.” He thought about it for a second. “She’s totally a princess. She acts all proper and prissy.”

“Snobby.” Ten added with bright disdain. “Bitchy.”

“Focus,” Garrus said, shaking his head at the pair. “We need to look at the facts. You need to get over whatever problem you have with Honor. We get that you’re in some sort of pissing match with a woman you just met—“ 

Ten smiled sweetly at the turian. “Don’t make me mess up the other side of your face, Vakarian.”

Garrus laughed, nudging Ten’s shoulder with his own. “I’m serious here, Ten. We know you don’t like her. That’s fine. You don’t have to. But we can’t ignore what’s right in front of us.”

“What’s right in front of us is an injured commanding officer who was attacked in his sleep, because of that woman.” 

Will stood, his movements slow and measured. There was a slight pull on his chest from the stiches. He still had some bruises, some small cuts that Chakwas had put topical ointment on, his ribs were healed, but still sore. And his chest. It would scar, Chakwas said. Scars didn’t bother him. Scars that didn’t react to any sort of medical technology they had on this prototype warship bothered him. 

He shrugged slightly. Not much he could do about that right now. He made a mental note to get it looked at when they got back to the Citadel. He caught the shirt Ten tossed at him, pulling it on gently, mindful of his wounds.

“What we have,” he began after he sat to pull on his boots, “is a woman who fell through time and space, bringing with her some kind of magic—it is magic,” Will cut Ten off when she opened her mouth to argue. “How else can you explain her weapons? That bag that has enough crap in it to fill our store rooms? Her dog? Ten, I was attacked, in my sleep. I was in a locked room. EDI and Liara poured over the security footage. There was nothing, no alterations or tampering. I was sleeping and then I was waking up, bleeding.”

She didn’t want to remember that. She sees his broken, bleeding form huddled on the floor of his quarters every time she closes her eyes. One more life almost life, one more regret. The memory was just one more on top of hundreds. 

“I don’t want to believe in that sort of thing any more than you do, but I can’t ignore it. I won’t. It is magic and somehow, someway, Honor came here and she wants to help. And I want her to help.”

“How can she help? She doesn’t know anything about this world. About our weapons, our enemies.” Ten sounded like she had already relented. She didn’t look happy about it. In fact, Will was pretty sure he’s never seen that particular shade of pissed off on his sister, but she’ll deal with it. Hopefully. “She knows jack shit about this universe. So what do we do?”

Will looked at his crew, at his family and stood. “We teach her.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Honor fidgeted in her seat. William shut the door behind the last of his companions and turned to face her. His face was unreadable, his movements still stiff, slow. He walked over to the table and pulled a chair out. Dragging it, he placed it in front of her and sat down. She clasped her hands in her lap and prayed he couldn’t see how tightly she gripped herself. Her fingers screamed in protest, but the pain helped her calm herself. 

She didn’t know what he was going to do. The healer had seen to his injuries, the most serious one on his chest had finally stopped bleeding and had been closed with a strange tool Chakwas had briefly explained to her. After he had been healed, he had asked the healer to take Honor out of the room. He needed to talk to his crew. 

About her. About what to do with her. There had been shouting, arguing. They had debated for a while. She had heard some of what they had said through the door, but most of it was lost in the gentle humming of the ship and the healer’s bright chatter. 

She figured the woman wouldn’t leave her alone or would have treated her so kindly if they were to execute her or punish her. Honor also couldn’t see William harming her. She hoped. Unable to meet his gaze just yet, she looked around the room, at the pile of bloodied bandages and towels still piled on the countertop. There were cups around the room, with what smelled like coffee and those glowing parchments strewn across most flat surfaces. 

The silence stretched. It was unbearable. Too much uncertainty, too much fear. She had to say something. She had to find out their plan for her. "Something changed." Honor said, her gaze finally resting on the commander’s face. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he was holding himself too tensely. His injuries were probably bothering him. She bit back the need to ask him, to reassure herself he was alright. 

He was fine. He was more than fine. His wounds were healed. He had changed into a new uniform. It was starched and clean. His posture was straight, natural, strong. He looked every inch the military man. His uniform was the same as everyone else’s, she had noticed James and his sisters were identical to his. She couldn't really see any distinguishing marks that could identify him as a commander. It was just the same simple black shirt and pants. It fit him nicely though, she noticed. The shirt stretched over what she now knew was a broad, muscular chest. He had the perfect amount of dark curling hair dusting his chest with a darker stripe that started around his belly button and trailed down-- Her cheeks flushed. He didn't look like he could know what she was thinking. And for that she sent a quick, empathic prayer of thanks. 

"Everything’s changed." He said suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. 

"What do you mean?" 

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. "After everything… the data we received, what happened last night, we’ve… come to a decision."

"About what to do with me." At his nod, she lifted her chin, steeling herself to whatever he said next. “And?”

"Let’s talk about what we know about you first. You’re twenty five years old. Five foot two. One hundred and ten pounds. You have a blood type we’ve never seen before. A foreign substance in your blood that is attacking you from the inside out, but despite that you’re one of the healthiest people in this universe. You fight dragons and know witches who like to attack people in their dreams. Did I miss anything?” 

Honor opened her mouth, then closed it. She took a breath, let it out. One of her shoulders shrugged, her hands lifting off her lap. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m—“

“A goddamn mystery. You should be dead, but you’re not. Honor, I saw the fight. I saw you fight that dragon and I have to say, I’ve seen some crazy things in my life, especially in the past few years, but I have never seen anything like that.” 

“I did what I had to—“

He interrupted her, smiling slightly when her eyes flashed with irritation. “It was amazing and impossible and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you are the most badass woman I have ever met.” 

Honor hesitated before asking, “Is that a good thing?”

Will laughed. He stood, too restless to just sit there. He began to pace, his hands pushing through his hair in a gesture not unlike his sister’s. “A very good thing. Also, I decided--- we decided that we won’t be taking you to the mental—to the clinic. Anymore. We, uh, we all believe that you’re telling the truth. So, yeah.”

“Oh, well. Thank you. I think.” She tracked his movements. He was like a large cat, prowling back and forth, graceful and deadly. After a few beats of silence she asked, "So, does that mean I'm free to go?" 

His heart began to pound at t. He hadn't even considered if she would want to stay. Will was not happy about the sick feeling that gave him, o the fact that his entire body was screaming in displeasure at the thought of her walking out of his life for good. "If you want." He managed to say.

Thoughtful now, Honor stood as well and moved to stand in front of him. She had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. Her head barely brushed against his chest. She was so damned tiny. So damned strong and brave. He snapped back to reality, the images of her fighting on that rooftop melting away when she asked, "What would you do with me if I wanted to leave?" 

"Drop you off at the Citadel, probably give you so money and... Leave."

"And if I want to stay? What would you do with me then?"

"You’d be a part of the crew. A part of the team." He replied . 

"Truly?" She still sounded suspicious. He didn't blame her. It was all happening so fast, too fast. He was still reeling at the implications. She was telling the truth. And with it, she brought magic and witches and strange weapons that glowed. There was her fighting skills and her bright green eyes. There were those feelings that simmered and stirred beneath the surface, between them. Feelings that might not have to be ignored or forgotten. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing ever is. 

"Yes." 

"Why?"

"Because I think you can help. I want you to help. With this war, with everything, we need all the help we can get. Plus, I’m getting kind of attached to your dog.”  
Eyes that had been so distant and wary warmed. The smile she gave him was bright, open, and made his stomach clench in answer. "I accept your offer." She held out a small, slender hand. He stared at it for a few moments, before sliding his own larger hand in it. He gave her a quick, strong shake. "Welcome to the team, Miss Cousland."


End file.
